I, Panacea
by ack1308
Summary: Amy Dallon is a teenage girl in Brockton Bay. She is better known as the superhero Panacea. She is caught in a robbery at the Brockton Bay Central Bank, and is knocked out. When she wakes up, she's not alone in her head ...
1. Chapter 1

**I, Panacea**

* * *

**A Worm SI Story**

* * *

Part 1: Oh No, Not Again

* * *

_Disclaimers:_

_1) This story is set in the Wormverse, which is owned by Wildbow. Thanks for letting me use it._

_2) I will follow canon as closely as I can. If I find something that canon does not cover, I will make stuff up. If canon then refutes me, I will revise. Do not bother me with fanon; corrections require citations._

_3) I welcome criticism of my works, but if you tell me that something is wrong, I also expect an explanation of what is wrong, and a suggestion of how to fix it. Note that I do not promise to follow any given suggestion. Posting a negative review from an anonymous account is a good way to have said review deleted._

* * *

**14 April 2011**

**Brockton Bay Central Bank**

**Just after midday**

* * *

"Eight seconds."

Amy wasn't really sure if Tattletale was bluffing, or if she really had damaging information about Amy's real father. She did seem very sure of herself. On the other hand, Amy _really_ didn't want these two supervillains – they weren't any older than her! - to get away with robbing the bank in broad daylight.

Gambling that the bug girl was just bluffing, that she wouldn't really cut her throat, Amy lunged free of her grip. She met Vicky's eyes as she got free; Vicky nodded slightly and went for Tattletale. The girl in the skin-tight outfit tried to get behind a desk, but Vicky simply went over it, shoving her backward with all the power of which she was capable.

For a moment, Amy thought that Glory Girl might simply fly _into_ the wall, crushing the girl to a bloody pulp, but she stopped just short of it. Giving Tattletale a hard shove that slammed her into the wall, she put her hand over the girl's mouth. Amy approved; Tattletale's voice seemed to be the most dangerous thing about her.

_Now to deal with the bug girl._

Amy began to turn back toward the second supervillain. She'd already shown herself unwilling to use the knife on Amy, so all Amy had to do -

Too late, she heard the metallic _click-click-click-click._

_That's not a gun._

The extendible baton caught her just above the ear. She staggered a couple of feet, then tumbled to the ground.

=/=

"-an you hear me, miss? Hello? Can you hear me?"

There was a bright light shining in her eye. She tried to blink; the reflex happened, but it was late. A second or so after she applied the effort. The light shifted to her other eye; again, the blink was late. Really, really late.

"Can you hear me?" asked the voice again.

She tried to frame an answer, but her lips and tongue were unresponsive.

And then she answered, anyway. "Yes. I can hear you."

_That wasn't what I was going to say!_

_**What?**_

The voice in the back of her head startled her. It was distinct from her own thoughts, audible over the buzz of sound around her.

"Where … where am I?" she heard herself ask, to her utter consternation. She _knew _where she was.

_**Okay, where am I?**_

_What? Who are you? Where are you?_

_**Right here. Who are you? What are you doing in my head? And where am I?**_

The man asking questions, the paramedic, asked, "Do you remember your name?"

"I, uh -" her lips faltered.

_**What's my name? Where am I?**_

_I don't know what your name is, but my name's Amy Dallon. Now get out of my head!_

_**I thought this was **_**my****_ head. Fuck._**

"- uh, Amy Dallon -"

Whatever was controlling her lips, her speech, seemed to freeze up at that moment.

_**Oh, you have to be fucking **_**kidding****_ me._**

_What would I be kidding you about?_

A silent groan. _**I'm in fucking Brockton Bay again, aren't I?**_

Mentally, she frowned. _I'm in Brockton Bay, yes. Why?_

**_What date is it?_**

_What does that matter to you?_

**_A lot._**

At that moment, the paramedic asked, "Miss Dallon, do you know what date it is?"

A sigh. _**Did you just get hit in the head by a girl who could control bugs, right after you clocked her with a fire extinguisher?**_

_You forgot about the bit where she held a knife to my throat._

_**She wasn't going to use it. She just didn't want to get pummelled to a pulp by your foster sister.**_

Out loud, her lips said, "April fourteenth, two thousand and eleven."

_How did you know that now, when you didn't know it before?_

The voice was grim. _**Trust me, Amy, I know this shit. Can you control your body at all? I'm letting go.**_

She felt a subtle relaxation, all over her body. Exerting herself, she strained to blink her eyes, move a finger, do anything.

Nothing happened.

_Oh god, what's happened to me?_

_**I have an idea. Not the how, but the what.**_

_What? Tell me. Please._

_**When you got hit, you got … jarred. Jolted loose from your body. And stupid fucking me dropped into the command seat before you got back.**_

_What? How is that even possible?_

_**Oh, trust me.**_The grim tone was back. _**I have a habit of doing this shit.**_

"Amy." The voice was Vicky's. "Can you move? Can you get up?"

She felt the stranger in her mind reassert control, and she got up, moving awkwardly. Vicky helped her, supporting her, until her footing was steady.

"Thanks," her voice sounded strange in her ears. "Are you all right, Vicky?"

Glory Girl's face was blotched with insect bites, and her eyes were reddened. "I'll be fine. I'll be a lot better once I catch up with the Undersiders."

"Here, let me help you with that." Amy felt her hand rest on her sister's bare skin. There was a pause.

_**Okay, how do I turn it on?**_

_Turn what on?_

_**Your biokinesis. You want to heal your sister's bug bites, right?**_

_How did you even know I had biokinesis?_

A sigh. _**Oh, for fuck's sake. Are we going to trust each other, or not?**_

_How can I trust you? You haven't even told me your name._

A pause. _**I haven't? I thought I had.**_

_No. You hadn't._

_**Ah. Sorry. My name's Michael Allen.**_

_That doesn't tell me much. Are you a Thinker?_

_**No. I'm a security guard.**_

_You have to be joking._

_**I only wish I was. Now, can I have the keys to the car, or not?**_

… _I don't think so. Not for the moment._

A sigh. _**Great.**_

She realised that Vicky was looking at her expectantly. "Amy?"

Her arm lifted and her hand pressed to her forehead. "Sorry, Vicky. Head's a bit sore. I'm finding it a little hard to concentrate. Maybe later?"

_That's weak._

_**Spur of the moment, okay?**_

_You realise, Vicky's known me all my life. She'll realise it's not me running the show sooner or later._

_**It's not like I planned this, okay?**_

_You could tell them what's happened._

_**Oh, for fuck's sake. I don't even **_**know****_ what happened. Just that it did. And how's it going to sound? "Hey, listen. I'm not really Amy, I'm just driving her body while she gives me advice from the back seat." Master/Stranger protocols much?_**

… _oh._

_**Yeah. Oh. Now listen, there's things we need to discuss.**_

Amy was vaguely aware that her sister had replied to her, and was waiting for her to answer.

_Aren't you going to talk to her?_

_**What? What did she say?**_

_I thought you were listening._

_**No. No, I was not.**_

"Uh, sorry," she heard herself say. "I was kind of distracted."

"I'll say you are, Ames," Vicky told her. "I was thinking we call in sick from school and go straight home. You look like you need about a week of bed rest."

Amy felt herself nodding. "Yeah, that's a really good idea. I'm not feeling the greatest."

Vicky frowned. "Maybe you should go to the hospital?"

"Uh, no," she replied. "Just a lie down should do me the world of good."

Glory Girl nodded. "Yeah, me too. And once you feel better, maybe you can do something about these insect bites. They sting like crazy."

Mentally, Amy bit her lip. _Oh, Vicky …_

She 'heard' Michael Allen – whoever _that_ was – sigh._** I offered to heal her.**_

She felt Vicky gather her up, and they lifted into the air, the wind whistling through her hair.

_And if I showed you how to turn on my powers, you'd have access to them then._

_**You can trust me. Seriously. I'm not going to misuse your powers.**_

_Sorry, I need more assurance than that._

Her body rolled its eyes._** And how exactly am I supposed to give you proof?**_

_That's not my problem._

**_You're right. It's _****our****_ problem. And it will continue being our problem until you learn to cooperate with me. Oh, and one other thing._**

_What?_

**_I know about you being in love with Vicky. That ends now._**

A frozen lump encased her heart. _What?_

_**You heard me. In any case, it's not you. It's her. She used that damn aura of hers once too often on you, when she first got her powers.**_

_I – that can't be -_

Abruptly, her body went limp, every muscle relaxing. Instinctively, she tried to assert control again.

Nothing.

Allen took over again, turning her head toward Vicky, who was looking at her with concern.

"Amy?" asked her sister. "What was that? You scared me."

She felt herself nodding. "I just … felt weak for a bit. If you can get me home, I'll try to rest."

The wind-rush increased. "Okay, Ames. Just hang on. I'll get you there."

_**Dammit, thought that might work.**_

_What might work?_

_**Giving you a shock, then letting go. See if you could regain control.**_

_Well, it didn't work._ She paused. _Was that a lie, then? To shock me?_

_**Nope. Truth, as far as I know.**_

_It … it can't be._

_**Sure it can. Also, your stepmother is wrong.**_

… _about?_

_**You. You're not about to turn into a supervillain, just because your father is one.**_

_What?_

_**What what?**_

_My father's a supervillain?_

_**Well, duh. Why do you think Brandish has been down on you all your life? She thinks 'like father like daughter'. Which is utter bullshit.**_

_Uh … is it?_

_**Sure. My dad raises cattle. I'm a security guard. You know O'Hare Airport in Chicago?**_

Bewildered by the change of subject, she responded anyway. _Uh, yes?_

**_The guy it was named after, a flying ace in World War 2, his dad was the accountant for Al Capone. We do not grow up to be our parents._**

_I … I guess?_

**_I don't guess. I know. Ah, we're coming in for a landing. This where you live?_**

_What, something you don't know?_

_**Oh, har har. Listen, once you have a bit of a camp -**_

_A what?_

_**A sleep,**_ he replied patiently.**_ Hopefully you'll be back in control. But I still need to talk to you about stuff._**

_What sort of stuff?_

_**Saving the world.**_

Amy had no answer to that.

=/=

Vicky landed more or less on the front doorstep, and set Amy on her feet. She felt the stranger behind her eyes take control of her body; when Vicky opened the door, she watched herself step through and into the house.

She hadn't gone three paces when Carol was there, staring at the two of them.

"And what happened to you two?"

"There was a bank robbery, Mom," Vicky began. "Amy got hurt -"

"Not too badly, I see," Carol broke in. "I don't see any blood." She nodded to Vicky. "But what happened to you, Victoria?"

"Bug bites," mumbled Vicky. "Look, Amy's not feeling too good, so I was thinking she could have a shower and go to bed."

"And Amy hasn't healed you yet?" demanded Carol. "Why not?"

_**Because someone won't show me how.**_

_Because I know what my powers could do if I wasn't careful with them. And I don't trust you to be careful._

_**Gee, thanks a lot.**_

_Would you trust a total stranger with your powers?_

"She's _not feeling good_, Mom," Vicky repeated. "She got hit in the head. They think she might have a mild concussion."

Carol stared at them for a long moment, then nodded curtly. "Go ahead. But I want to hear more about it, once you're both feeling better."

Vicky nodded, and put an arm around Amy's shoulders. "Come on, Ames, let's get you upstairs."

* * *

Her body paused as they reached the upstairs corridor.

_**Uh, which one's your room?**_

_Why don't you figure it out for yourself?_

A sigh. _**Amy, I'm on your side. Work with me, here.**_

She relented a little. _Okay, second on the right._

**_Thanks._**

His control over her body's movements wasn't perfect yet; either that, or the body itself was still a bit woozy from the hit to the head. In any case, she stumbled over the threshold of her room, where the carpet stuck up a bit. Immediately, Vicky was at her side, supporting her.

"Hey, are you all right?"

"Yeah," Amy heard herself say. "I'm fine. Just gonna lie down for a bit."

_**Oh god, please do not offer to help me get undressed.**_

_What are __**you**__ worried about? It's my body._

_**Oh god. You had to remind me. Okay, not getting undressed.**_

_What, not ever?_

_**Amy. You're a sixteen year old girl. I'm a forty-four year old man. I am not going to go there.**_

_I have to shower __**sometime**__. And girls have hygiene needs too._

_**Fuck, I hope you have control back by the time we need to do that.**_

He honestly sounded worried; she took pity on him. _So do I, Michael. So do I._

* * *

End of Part One


	2. Chapter 2

**I, Panacea**

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Part Two: Getting Along

* * *

_[Author's Note: the character Michael Allen is the same character who features in Security! This story is a sequel of sorts to that one; the action of Security! is resolved before I, Panacea starts._

_Yes, he's getting sick and tired of this.]_

* * *

Amy blinked her way awake. There was a thumping on her door.

"Ames!" she heard Vicky calling. "Phone call!"

She pushed herself to a sitting position and swung her legs over the side of the bed. "Coming," she replied.

She was on her feet before she realised what was going on. _I'm in control again! Oh, thank god!_ She paused. _Was that just a hallucination or something? Did I imagine it?_

_**Nope. Afraid not.**_

She stumbled in mid-step, would have fallen if her arm hadn't shot out and grabbed the door frame.

_**Careful there, kiddo.**_

As quickly as she had lost control of her limb, she regained it; she could almost literally feel the outside force retreating, leaving her in command of her body once more.

_Oh god, it wasn't a dream. It was real._ She started to hyperventilate.

_**Yeah, look, sorry. I think we got off on the wrong foot earlier. Please calm down. Freaking out isn't going to do anyone any good.**_

Her fear, her apprehension came to the fore. _Calm down? CALM DOWN? Are __**you**__ the one with the strange voice stuck in your head? Are __**you**__ the one who keeps having their body taken over by an outside force?_

_**No,**_" he told her flatly,_** I'm the one stuck in a strange body with no way to go home. So yeah, I'm freaking just a bit too.**_ There was a pause; she imagined him taking a deep breath. _**So can we both please take a step back and think about what we're going to say next?**_

He was so obviously trying to be reasonable that she did calm down, just a bit. _So why are you here? In my head?_

_**I can't be sure, but I have the distinct idea that I'm supposed to save the world.**_

_You said that before. Save the world? From what?_

_**I … can we go into that later, when we have more time? Your sister said something about a phone call.**_

_Oh. Right._

_**It'll be the Wards.**_

_How do you know that?_

_**Because they got fairly beaten about, fighting the Undersiders. Especially Aegis. And because you went to see them the last time.**_

_The last time what?_

_**The last time you did this.**_ He paused. _**Well, not the **_**last**_** time last time. That time, no-one got hurt. Let's say the 'first' time.**_ Another pause. _**Look, can you just answer the phone? Please?**_

_Why don't you answer it? You didn't have any problem with acting for me before._

_**Because now we have a choice, and I'd rather not. I want you in control of your body.**_

She blinked. _What?_

_**Amy, we're going to need to be partners here. Work together. And for that to work, we're going to need to agree to boundaries. I think "no taking over your partner's body without her express permission" is a good start, don't you?**_

Somewhat taken aback, she nodded. _I … I guess._

"Ames?" came Vicky's voice from outside the door. "Are you all right?"

"Yeah," she called back. "Just … thinking about something." She took hold of the door handle, opened the door. Her body worked smoothly, with easy coordination. There was no outside control going on.

* * *

Vicky was standing there, holding the cordless phone, her face still swollen and welted. She handed it over to Amy. "It's the PRT, calling about the Wards."

_You were right._

A mental impression of a shrug. _**Educated guess.**_

Numbly, Amy took the phone. "Hello?"

It was Deputy Director Renick on the other end; Amy had spoken with him before. As the voice in her head had predicted, he was asking for her to come in and heal the Wards of their most grievous wounds.

Which reminded her; Vicky still bore the marks of the bugs that had apparently swarmed her after Amy had been knocked out.

_**You might want to heal her at some point too.**_

_I'm not sure if I can trust you with my powers._ In her head was a mental image of herself, under the compulsion of the voice within her head, using her powers willy-nilly. Hurting people. Killing people.

_**To be honest, I don't think I **_**can**_** use your powers. They're hooked into you, not me.**_

_Really?_

_**Yeah, really.**_

_So why were you so anxious to know how to use them, earlier?_

His voice was patient. _**Because I wasn't sure if you were ever going to regain control of your body.**_

_Oh._

In her ear, Renick seemed to be waiting for a response.

She made a snap decision. "Uh, yeah. I'll be there." Hanging up the call, she handed the phone back to her sister. Touching Vicky's hand, she felt her power kicking in, reading her sister's body, telling Amy exactly what was wrong with it.

It took only the slightest exertion of her power to reverse the effects of the bites, to cause Vicky's body to metabolise the toxins, to smooth out the welts, to take away the irritation.

_**Wow.**_

_What?_

_**That was … awesome. Sheer poetry.**_

_You were watching?_

_**Unless I choose not to, I see everything you do.**_

Vicky raised her hand to her face. "Thanks, Ames. You're obviously feeling better?" Her voice was low, her eyes dull.

Amy smiled at her. "I'm feeling much more myself, yeah."

"So you're needed at the PRT building then, huh?"

Amy nodded. "Yeah. We need to help out the Wards. Give me a lift?"

Vicky shook her head. "Uh … rain check? Whatever Tattletale did to me really knocked the stuffing out of me. I just want to curl up under my quilt and not come out for a week." She did her best to muster a smile. "Get Dad to drive you?"

Amy nodded and headed back into her room. Closing the door, she leaned against it, breathing heavily.

* * *

_**What's up?**_

_I hate lying to my sister._

_**You weren't lying. You just weren't telling her everything.**_

_Which is still lying._

His voice was patient. _**Amy. You do that every day anyway. Remember?**_

_Don't remind me. Anyway, you're saying that you can experience everything I do?_

_**Unless I concentrate on something else, yeah.**_

_That could get really creepy, really fast._

_**Uh yeah, I think I already pointed that out. Which is why I want for us to come to some sort of a partnership understanding sooner rather than later.**_

_Well, it's going to be a one-sided partnership. You seem to have all the leverage._ Her inner voice was bitter. _After all, you can take over my body any time you like._

_**Not by choice!**_ It was almost a shout. After a moment, she felt him relaxing. _**Sorry. Not by choice. And anyway, you have access to your powers and I don't.**_

She was shocked. _You tried to __**use**__ them?_

_**Nope. I watched **_**you **_**use them. And I still have no idea how that works.**_

_Oh. Right._

She opened her closet and pulled out the robes she habitually wore as Panacea, and laid them out on the bed. Then she went to pull her t-shirt off -

_**Whoa! Wait! What are you doing?**_

_I need a shower. So I'm going to take one._

_**Oh god, okay. Let me get ready. Right, okay.**_

She could hear him humming to himself as she took her clothes off and wrapped herself in the towel.

"Just going for a shower!" she called to Vicky as she stepped out of her room.

"Already there!" was the reply, from the bathroom.

* * *

The humming in the back of her head intensified as she entered the bathroom; Vicky was already in the shower, the water running. Deliberately, she kept her eyes away from the shower cubicle.

"Can you make it quick?" she asked her sister.

"I was just about done. Wanted to feel clean again after those bug bites."

True to her word, Vicky turned the shower off and stepped from the cubicle, reaching for her towel. Involuntarily, Amy found her eyes wandering toward her sister's body -

_**LALALALALALALALALALA!**_

Startled, Amy jumped, then jerked her eyes away from Vicky.

_Will you stop doing that? That's very distracting!_

_**It's MEANT to be! Stop looking at her!**_

Rather than argue the point, Amy pulled off her towel, trying to ignore the "lalalalalalala" that had emerged in the back of her head once more, and stepped into the shower cubicle. She turned on the shower, but when she went to nudge the lever toward 'hot', her hand moved of its own accord and it went toward 'cold' instead. A freezing spray of water hit her, and she gasped.

_What the hell are you doing?_

His voice was terse. _**Cold shower. Do you the world of good.**_

_What – is this because I looked at Vicky?_

_**Yes. Now get clean. We've got some Wards to go heal.**_

_At least let me use the hot water._

A sigh. _**Fine. Okay. Just get it over and done with.**_

Gritting her teeth, Amy nudged the lever back over to 'hot', and felt the water temperature become something more comfortable than 'arctic'. Then she started to wash herself.

_**Lalalalalalalala …**_

_Will you stop doing that?_

_**When you stop running your hands over yourself. Lalalalala …**_

_That's very irritating._

He didn't answer, unless she counted "lalalalalalala ..." as an answer.

=/=

By the time she was dressing, he was reciting poetry in her head. She had to admit, it was an improvement on "lalalalala", but she was puzzled and intrigued by some of the verses.

_**Then fast the horsemen followed, where the gorges deep and black**_

_**Resounded to the thunder of their tread ...**_

_Okay, I'm dressed._

He stopped reciting. _**Oh, good.**_

_That was an interesting poem._

_**Uh, I memorised it once upon a time. It was a way to pass the time.**_

_I think I like it. I'd like to hear the whole thing sometime._

_**Sure thing. When we get a chance. But right now, we need to discuss matters.**_

_What matters?_

_**Improving your situation, for one. And saving the world, for two.**_

_Improving __**my**__ situation?_

_**Yeah. Right now, your home life? Toxic as all hell. You have to change things, or it's going to go downhill fast.**_

_How am I going to do that? And why will it go downhill? And why do you say my home life is toxic?_

"Amy girl?" called Mark Dallon from outside her room. "Are you ready to go?"

"Nearly," Amy replied, adjusting her hood. "Okay, ready."

She opened the door and joined her foster father. They walked downstairs together.

_Well, are you going to give me a straight answer?_

_**Sure, but first I need to talk to you about the Undersiders.**_

_What about the Undersiders?_

_**About how they're not as bad as you think. In fact, I think you need to reach out to them. They could help you, and you could help them.**_

She stopped dead, halfway down the stairs. _You have got to be fucking kidding me._

Mark went a few more steps, then turned to stare at her. "Amy? Something the matter?"

She mustered a smile. "No, I, uh, just remembered something. Let's go." She started down the steps again.

_Seriously, you have to be kidding._

_**Not a word of it.**_

_Wait a minute._ She paused, remembering. _The Undersiders have that guy, Regent. He can control minds. You're Regent, aren't you? Fucking with my head?_

_**And nope again. Regent can't control minds, only bodies. Also, he needs to spend about a day working on someone before he can gain full control of them. And he can't talk to them mentally.**_

_The shadow guy, Grue, then._

_**Creates darkness. Doesn't do control.**_

_The bug girl._

_**She controls bugs, not people. And by the time you get to the PRT HQ, the Wards will have chosen the name 'Skitter' for her.**_

_What – how do you know that?_

A sigh. _**Because I've been through this all before. And before you ask, Bitch makes dogs grow, and she understands them really well, and Tattletale is super intuitive. That's it. Oh, and you might want to get in the car.**_

* * *

She looked around; she was standing by the car, and her father was holding the door open for her. "Ready to go, Amy girl?"

"Sure." She climbed into the car, and in moments they were on the road. The delay gave her time to think, and she went on the attack.

_How do I know you aren't lying to me?_

_**You don't. That's what trust is about, I guess.**_

_I don't have much of a basis to trust you on, you know._

_**I know. Which is a real problem. Because there are things happening, bad things, and we only have a narrow window of opportunity to get on top of them, and I'd really rather be on the same page as you before we start.**_

His words sent a chill down her spine.

_Bad things?_

_**Really bad things.**_

_Like what?_

_**Like a twelve year old girl being kidnapped and forced to use her powers to make a supervillain even more powerful.**_

_Okay, now that just sounds like the plot to a bad movie. How can he force her to use her powers, without her using them on him?_

_**She's a precog, a powerful one. Right now, right this very second, he's forcibly addicting her to the drugs which he will use to control her.**_

She felt sick at the idea, but continued to argue. _So where's this happening?_

_**Right here in Brockton Bay.**_

_I don't believe you. If there was a precog that strong, I've never heard of her. And definitely not one that's only twelve._

_**She only triggered very recently.**_

_So how come she didn't see him coming and take steps?_

_**Because he's a precog too, of a different type. And he made sure she knew that whatever she tried, he would kill people dear to her.**_

She paused. _Oh. Okay, do these people have names, or is this all just hypothetical?_

_**Yes. The supervillain is called Coil. And the girl's name is Dinah Alcott. She's the mayor's niece.**_

She rolled her eyes. _Really. The mayor's niece. Sounds more and more like a bad movie all the time._

He sounded just like he was gritting his teeth. _**You **_**have****_ heard of Coil, right?_**

_Sure. But he's just a bit player. A low tier operator. And you're saying he's a precog?_

_**He's a lot more powerful than he lets on. He specialises in working from the shadows. The bank robbery? He was behind it. He's got several supervillain gangs on his payroll.**_

_I'm really not sure that I believe you. Especially since I haven't heard of any such kidnapping._

He sighed. _**Why do you think the bank robbery went off in broad daylight? It was intended to draw everyone's attention. Several other big flashy crimes would have happened around the same time. All to act as distractions, so his men could grab Dinah.**_

_She's that important to him?_

_**In a nutshell - yes. He would cheerfully shoot any of his men - or his super-powered minions - in the head, to ensure that he keeps hold of her.**_

_All this could just be a fabrication. You could be lying through your metaphorical teeth. _But she was starting to wonder.

_**It's easy to prove or disprove. Get on to the mayor, ask where his niece Dinah is. If he can locate her, or if he doesn't have a niece, then I'm lying. If she's missing, then ... yeah.**_

She paused. He was right. His challenge was simple, direct, and to the point.

_What if he's not lying?_

_**Still right here, you know.**_

_Go away. Let me think._

_**Love to. Let me know how it goes.**_

* * *

His presence seemed to dwindle, but not disappear. He seemed to be mumbling to himself, but that could simply have been his background thoughts.

She looked over at Mark as he hit the indicator to change lanes. "Dad?"

"Yes?"

"You know the mayor fairly well, right?"

He smiled slightly. "Met him a time or two. So you could say that, yeah."

"Does he have a niece by the name of Dinah?"

He blinked. "That's kind of out of the blue. But yes … I think he might, actually. His wife's sister's girl."

"Huh," she replied. "So, how old would she be?"

He frowned. "Twelve or thirteen, I think. Why?"

"Oh, no reason," she deflected. "Someone was talking, and I got curious."

"Okay," he replied, and turned his attention back to the road.

_He has a niece called Dinah. Okay, that still doesn't prove anything._

There was no response. _Hey! You still there?_

_**Nope. In Puerto Rico for the holidays. Leave a message after the beep. Beep.**_

_Stop being childish. Okay, so the mayor has a niece of the right age. Still doesn't prove anything._

_**Not if you don't want it to, no.**_

_What's that supposed to mean?_

A sigh. _**Amy. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to snap at you. I'm just … stressed. Very stressed. And so are you. So right now, our chances of reaching any sort of amicable agreement are minimal.**_

_I'm not stressed. I feel fine._

… **_says the girl to the voice in her head._**

His mental tone was so dry, so deadpan, that she giggled mentally. _Okay, point taken. I'm feeling a bit stressed myself._

**_It's what Tattletale said to you, isn't it?_**

_How did you know about that?_

He snorted. _**If I had a dollar for every time … okay, screw it. She was going to tell you exactly who your father was. And it would have messed with you head plenty. But I have the fix.**_

_What?_

**_I'll tell you, right here, right now. Vicky doesn't need to know. Mark and Carol know, of course. But once you know, you can start coming to terms with it. And you don't need to be scared of Tattletale telling everyone._**

She felt a surge of apprehension. _I – I'm not sure I want to know._

**_Remember what I told you earlier? We do not grow up to be our parents?_**

_Yeah … but Vicky's kinda like Carol._

**_And not in the least like Mark. So what if you're like your real mom, and not your dad at all?_**

_I … maybe?_

**_I can guarantee you're not like your dad. I know this for an absolute fact. He was a murderer who kept his minions in absolute fear of him. You have respect for life and the well-being of others._** He paused. **_Amy, I like you, and I want to help you through this._**

_**Like**__ me? You don't even __**know**__ me!_

She felt him smile. _**That's where you're wrong. I know more about you than you know about yourself.**_

_Such as?_

**_Your real name. The name your mother gave you._**

_Not my father?_

**_No. She was raising you, but she had cancer, so she passed you on to your father before she died._**

_I … I didn't know._

**_When the Brockton Bay Brigade took on your father, he had them beat, but for the fact that he was hiding you in a closet. They saw the way he was trying to lead the fight away from you, so they went to attack the closet. He took the hit, to save you. He was wounded, couldn't fight any more, so he asked them to take care of you. If you'd gone into the foster system, someone would have found out about who you really were. He had enemies. It would not have gone well for you._**

_So Carol and Mark took me in?_

**_Sarah and Neil would have, but they had Eric and Crystal already, and money troubles on top of that, so Sarah talked Carol into taking you._**

_But … why did Carol always dislike me?_

His tone was gentle. _**She saw your real father in you. She was wrong, of course, but that's how she saw it. When she was only about thirteen, she and Sarah were kidnapped for ransom, but the kidnappers eventually decided to kill them. That's when they triggered. But before that point, Carol had started talking to the kidnappers, started empathising with them. Stockholm Syndrome. After that, after they tried to kill her, she felt that everyone was out to betray her. So she married a man with chronic depression, because he was safe. Let herself get pregnant with Vicky, because a child of her own body was safe.**_

_And then … I came into her life._ Amy's tone was wondering.

_**Yeah. Child of a supervillain. Not her child, not from a safe parent. She saw you as the epitome of everything that was wrong with the world. But she's mistaken. You're a good person.**_

_I … I don't think so._

He snorted. _**Better than you think.**_

_No. I'm really not. I … get these feelings, sometimes._

He spoke soothingly, evenly. **_I know you do._**

She flared at him. _You don't know __**anything.**_

His tone never changed. **_The kid, with the heart. From Egypt, right? You hated him, because he was going to have a life, and your life was just taken up with healing people, right?_**

Amy felt her eyes fill with tears. _How can you … how can you __**know**__ this?_

_**Same way I know that you're a good kid. That you've got far too much pressure on you, and you're hurting. You aren't a bad person, and you don't want to **_**be****_ a bad person. But the way things are going, you'll be forced into doing something bad. Because no-one can live the way you are without snapping, sooner or later._**

His voice was calm, matter of fact. Not discounting her fears, but simply discussing them. Bringing them out into the open.

_But – what can I __**do?**_

She felt his smile. _**See, that's where I come in.**_

=/=

She was ushered through into a rear office, where she met with the Deputy Director. "Thank you for coming, Panacea," he told her, shaking her hand. "Here's your visitor's badge."

She hung the badge around her neck. "Want to come down, meet the guys, Dad?"

Mark shook his head. "No. I think I'll hang about and talk over old times with Phil here."

"Suit yourself." Amy shook hands with the Deputy Director once more, then let herself out. She was met by two of Brockton Bay's best-known capes.

"Armsmaster," she greeted them. "Miss Militia."

The armoured Tinker had his halberd clamped to his back, of course, and Miss Militia's current weapon of choice appeared to be a heavy machine-gun.

"Panacea," Miss Militia replied. "Thank you for coming in."

"It's the least I could do," she responded. "After all, they saved me."

They rode down in the lift. The voice in her head was mercifully silent; she needed to think about what he had said to her, after she had finally asked him for advice. Miss Militia's weapon reduced itself to a hunting rifle, slung over her shoulder, for the trip down.

Two sub-basements down, they exited into a gleaming stainless steel corridor, and walked its length to a heavy steel door. Miss Militia pressed the large button bearing the image of a domino mask; they waited until its light blinked out, then she leaned forward and let the retinal scanner look over her eye. As she did so, her weapon became a large rocket launcher.

She obviously passed muster, because the heavy interlocks on the metal doors separated, and the doors themselves opened. Armsmaster led the way in, followed by Miss Militia, with Amy bringing up the rear.

As they entered the large room, Gallant stood up. "Armsmaster," he greeted the leader of the Protectorate in Brockton Bay. "Good to see you, sir. Miss Militia, always a pleasure."

"Ever the gentleman," responded Miss Militia graciously. Indicating Amy, she went on. "We brought a guest. She was kind enough to volunteer to come here and patch you guys up."

_**Volunteer, hah.**_

_Shush, these are my friends. I would have volunteered if you hadn't been in my head, confusing me._

Miss Militia smiled behind her scarf. "Can't send you home with horrible injuries and hundreds of bug bites, can we? That would give away the show."

He sighed. _**To be fair, I think you're right. But the fact remains that **_**they**_** called on **_**you**_**.**_

As Miss Militia's weapon changed shape again, from rocket launcher to machine gun to sniper rifle to harpoon gun, Amy stepped forward.

"I wanted to thank you guys for coming to my rescue," she told them. "And for letting Glory Girl come with you."

Inside her head, he chuckled. _**See the look on Gallant's face, right there? Director Piggot ripped him a brand new one for asking her to come along.**_

_But that's not fair! She would have come along anyway!_

**_So tell me you're surprised._**

_Well, they did bring her along, and I'm glad._

**_Why? Because she got hurt, and the Undersiders got away anyway?_**

_No. Because we __**tried**__ to do the right thing._ She couldn't understand why he could not see that.

Gallant had a concerned look on his face. "You two are okay?"

The voice in her head was very dry. _**Well, apart from hearing voices …**_

Amy had to stifle a giggle. _Shush!_

She shook her head. "Tattletale found a way around my sister's invincibility. Glory Girl was bitten pretty badly, which is why I didn't come sooner. I think it hits you harder, psychologically, when you're pretty much invincible but you get hurt anyways. But we're okay now. She's healed but sulking. I- I'm alright. Bump on my head, but I'm okay."

_**You want to know how Tattletale got her?**_

Distracted, she blinked. _Uh, how?_

"Good," Gallant replied, and he sounded like he meant it.

**_Her field goes down for a brief moment after she takes a big hit. Tattletale shot her, and while her field was down, the bugs swarmed her. She's too overconfident. This is actually probably a good thing._**

_I was bluffing when I told the bug girl that I'd give her cancer or stuff, but now I think I could really do it. She could have killed my sister._

His voice was firm. _**Don't go there. Do **_**not**_** go there. You do **_**not**_** know all the details.**_

_I don't __**need**__ to know -_

**_Just like Carol Dallon didn't need to know all the details to know that you're a danger to society?_**

His comment cut her off at the knees, quite likely as it was intended to do.

_I, uh -_

* * *

Armsmaster's voice got her attention. He was standing by a couple of whiteboards which had, she saw, the names of the Undersiders atop columns. Inside the columns were facts about each of the teen villains.

"I like this," the armoured hero commented. "But this one… nearly empty." Amy saw that he was tapping the column set up for Tattletale.

Gallant shrugged. "None of us ran into her, and the hostages didn't have anything to say about her."

Miss Militia looked at Amy. "Panacea may be able to help there."

She suddenly found herself the centre of attention. Her mouth went dry. "I- A lot happened."

"Any detail helps," Miss Militia encouraged her.

_**Right. Okay. Want to stand out now, or fade into the background?**_

_I … I want to help. But Tattletale …_

_**Can't hurt you. And, to be honest, she won't hurt you. Especially if you reach out to her and help her.**_

_I … we're really going to do that?_

_**Yes. We are. If we're going to get Dinah back, then we need the Undersiders on side. And Tattletale is a natural for that.**_

_Why?_

_**Tell you later. But right now, you can look good in front of everyone. If you want.**_

Amy took a deep breath. _Okay. I can do this. Hit me._

**_I can just take over and talk for you, if you want._**

… _no, just tell me what to say._

**_That's my girl._** She could _feel_ his approval. It was amazing how good it made her feel.

_**Okay, repeat after me …**_

* * *

"Before we get into this," she began, "there's something else I was wondering about. Something odd about the bank robbery."

Armsmaster, who had turned back to the whiteboards, returned his gaze to her. Even through the opaque visor, she could tell he was staring.

"What would that be?" asked Miss Militia.

"The timing," Amy informed her. "Middle of the day, busy period. Right when all the Wards were able to slip away and attend." She paused. "Was Shadow Stalker unable to attend, or was she told to stay away?"

Aegis raised a hand. "I, uh, told her to stay away," he rasped. There was something wrong with his chest, Amy saw.

"Do you need healing?" she asked, automatically.

"I'll be fine for the moment," he managed. "Heal the others first."

She nodded. "Okay. Well, given that you all got there well in time to intercept them, that was either a badly-planned heist – and the Undersiders are not known for that – or it was _planned."_

**_Nicely done, _**the voice in her head congratulated her. **_You've got them on the hook. Three … two … one …_**

Armsmaster spoke up, his voice hard. "Planned? For what reason?"

Amy shrugged. **"**Maybe it was a distraction, designed to draw as many capes away from somewhere else as possible." She paused. "Mom and Dad were at a dinner at their country club, and I think a few other capes were there as well. So they were out of the way too."

Miss Militia's voice was thoughtful. "Do we have information on any other crimes around town, at about that time?"

Kid Win was already sitting down at the computer console. "We have a jewellery store robbery. A pileup on the interstate, that apparently was caused by a cape battle. And … a missing kid."

Amy's head came around. "A missing child? Details?"

The teenage Tinker frowned under his visor. "Um … let's see … wandered away from school. Reported seen talking to some strange men. It wouldn't even show up, except that apparently she's related to the mayor."

"Rich parents?" asked Gallant.

Kid Win shook his head. "Uh, nope. Upper middle, is all."

"What's her name?" asked Amy tensely.

"No first name, just an initial. Alcott. D. Alcott."

_D. Alcott. Dinah Alcott. The mayor's niece. She's been kidnapped._

"Does that seem significant to you, Panacea?" asked Armsmaster.

Amy opened her mouth to reply, then found herself briefly unable to speak.

_**He has a lie detector in his helmet. Choose your words carefully.**_

Able to speak again, she hesitated. "I, uh, think there might be something important about the girl," she hedged. "Something we're not seeing."

"I'll go back over the details," Armsmaster noted. "Good catch there, Panacea."

She nodded, aware of cold sweat trickling down her back. "Thanks. Now, about Tattletale."

_What can you tell me about her?_

_**Well, I won't be telling you her secret identity, of course. That's for her to tell you. But for now, this shouldn't set off too many butterflies.**_

Picking up the marker pen, Amy began writing in a firm hand.

=/=

"Feeling better?" Amy asked, as Clockblocker felt his face.

"Oh god yes," he muttered. "I am going to have nightmares about spiders. Lots and lots of spiders."

"The bug girl, uh, Skitter?" asked Amy sympathetically.

He nodded. "She put bugs in behind my _eyeballs._ Do you have any idea what that _feels_ like?"

She shook her head. "I can't imagine."

"The idea Aegis and I had, to swap costumes? Never again. Never, ever again. I intend to be bug-proof for the rest of my natural life."

She chuckled and slapped him on the shoulder. "Take care."

_Well, that should be it._

_**Nope, here comes Gallant. I think he wants a word.**_

_What about?_

_**Us, I imagine.**_

_Oh, shit -_

_**Relax. I got this. Can I take over? I think I know the steps to this dance.**_

She took a deep breath. _O … okay._

**_Cool nanas._** She felt his influence spread through her body. Her heart rate slowed down.

"Panacea," the teenage cape greeted her.

"Gallant," she heard herself say. "How are your ribs? You seem to be holding yourself a little stiffly."

Gallant seemed to be slightly taken aback. "Uh, yeah. One of Hellhound's dogs rammed me, and I think I might have bruised or broken ribs. Can you check for me?"

Amy's head nodded. "Sure. Want to use your room for privacy?"

"Yeah," Gallant told her. "Sure." He led her toward his alcove.

"That's right," Clockblocker called out. "Give your sister's boyfriend special treatment. He get a lollipop for being a brave patient afterward too?"

Amy rolled her eyes, even as Gallant chuckled. "Don't mind him," he advised her.

"I don't," she heard herself say. "He's harmless."

* * *

They entered the alcove, and Gallant turned to face her. "Okay," he began. "What's going on with you?"

Amy wanted to panic, but her heart rate never shifted.

"I'm sorry," her voice sounded calm in her ears, "but you're going to be have to be more specific."

"I see emotions," Gallant told her. "All the time. All around everyone. And ever since you got here, your emotions have been all over the place. Jumping back and forth like a lightning storm. Calm one moment, jittery the next. And just now, just as I came up to you, you went from on edge to … calm. Unworried. Why is that?"

Amy felt herself reach out and put a hand on his shoulder. "Gallant," her voice sounded softly. "Dean. I'm under a lot of stress at the moment, as you can imagine. I'm actually considering taking a break, stepping away from healing, just to recharge my batteries. But you can imagine the hell that I'll catch from all sides if and when I make that announcement, so I'm holding off. Trying to figure out when to say it. Add to that the bank robbery, me getting a hit on the head, and Vicky getting hurt trying to protect me. My thoughts are going a million miles a minute, so if my emotions follow them, I wouldn't be surprised if I look like one of those electric plasma ball globes right now."

Gallant's eyes opened wide. No wider than Amy's would have, if she had been able to do so.

_Taking a break from healing? I __**can't!**_

_**It's killing you, kiddo. Killing you inside. And anyway, I didn't say you were **_**doing****_ it, just that you were _****considering****_ it. Which you should._**

"Wow," he muttered. "Damn. I … look, I'm sorry."

Amy felt herself frown. "Why?"

He grimaced. "I know you've got some pretty strong feelings about me. I'm sorry for getting you in here. Maybe this was a mistake."

_Oh god oh god oh god._

**_Relax. He's gotten the targets mixed up. He thinks the jealousy is aimed at Vicky, and the attraction at him._**

_I don't think so. He's pretty good at what he does._

Okay, one second.

_You're not going to ask -_

Too late; she heard herself speak in a curious tone. "Uh ... strong feelings?"

He ducked his head. "I'm not an idiot, Amy. I know that you think I'm not right for Vicky. That you resent me for coming between you two. If you ever want to talk about it ..."

_**Well, fuck.**_

_Oh god … you thought he thought I was attracted to him?_

_**I suspect it's not an uncommon phenomenon.**_

Amy heard herself speak softly. "It's okay. Maybe sometime I might feel like talking it out, but not right now, okay?"

He smiled. "Any time. My door is always open. When I get a door, that is."

She shrugged lightly. "Just make Vicky happy, okay?"

"Goes without saying." He opened the door and they rejoined the main group.

=/=

In the car, on the way back to the house, Amy fumed silently in her seat.

_**You seem a little upset.**_

_You had no right._

_**I have every right to take steps to improve your health. I'm in this body too. And I know about your problems.**_

_You should have at least consulted me!_

_**Like everyone else who's made life decisions for you has consulted you. At least I've got your best interests at heart.**_

_You're just like everyone else, making decisions over my head._

He was silent for a moment. When he spoke again, his voice was quieter, less carefree.

_**You're right. You're absolutely right. I'm sorry.**_

She was taken aback. _I am? You are?_

**_Yes. Just because I'm doing the right thing doesn't mean I can't talk to you about it first. I apologise, Amy. I won't do that again._**

_I … I'm sorry, too. For snapping at you._

He chuckled. _**That's okay. Snap away.**_

_And I'm ready._

**_Ready?_**

_For you to tell me who my real father is. What my real name is._

She felt him smile. _**Well, your real name is Amelia Claire Lavere. And your father is the supervillain known as Marquis.**_

_Marquis._

**_Yup._**

She considered that. A day ago, she would have been horrified. If it had come out in the bank, she would have been devastated. But now, with the information she had been given, with time to think about it, it merely came as a mild surprise.

_And my name is Amelia Claire Lavere._

_**That's your name.**_

_Thank you._

_**You're welcome.**_

She leaned back in the car seat, letting her eyes slide almost closed. Mark Dallon glanced across at her.

"You're looking happy, Amy girl."

She smiled at him. "I suppose I am, Dad. I suppose I am."

_I still have troubles. But at least I know what they are._

* * *

End of Part Two


	3. Chapter 3

**I, Panacea**

* * *

Part Three: Taking the Bull by the Horns

* * *

As the car rolled down her street, Amy felt the presence within her mind stir a little. When he 'spoke', his voice was calm, measured. _**So what's on your mind?**_

She was a little surprised. _Can't you hear my every thought? You __**are**__ in my head, after all._

The mental impression of a head-shake. _**Not if it's not at the front of your mind. You're not hearing everything I'm thinking, you know.**_

_Oh._ It was something - no pun intended - to think about. _I've been thinking about what you've told me._

_**Oh. Well, that's good. Do you have any questions?**_

_How serious are you that I should contact the Undersiders?_

_**Utterly. You can help them, and I think they can help you.**_

The car pulled into the driveway, and Mark Dallon set the park brake and turned off the engine. Then he turned and looked at her. "You've been really quiet, Amy girl," he observed. "Something on your mind?"

Jarred out of the silent conversation, Amy blinked. "I, uh, a lot of things to think about after that bank robbery, Dad," she temporised. "Just working stuff out for myself."

He nodded. "Well, if you ever need someone to talk to, you know I'm always here."

She smiled. "Thanks, Dad."

"How's your head?"

Gingerly, she touched the lump; it was still quite sore. "I'll live."

Smiling, he clasped her shoulder for a moment. "That's good." He opened his door and got out; after a moment, she followed suit.

Entering the house, she made her way to her room and closed the door firmly, before sitting on the bed.

_Okay, _she formulated the thought, _you say that the Undersiders can help me. How would they do that? And more importantly, why? I nearly helped capture two of them._

He was silent for a moment. _**Can we just go with 'can help you' for the time being? I don't think your trust level for them is very high at the moment, so anything I told you would be coloured through that perspective.**_

She paused, thinking about that. He was right, of course. The Undersiders were _villains._ They had _robbed _a _bank,_ right in front of her. And that wasn't even counting what the girl called Skitter had done to her and Vicky. _Of course I don't trust them. Why should I?_

_**I can't give you a reason that you can depend on, right now, **_he replied. _**All I can do is ask you to keep an open mind.**_

_What if I said I don't trust you, either?_

A sigh. _**Then we're doomed.**_

She was startled. _What?_

His voice was sombre. _**If you can't trust me, if you won't follow my advice, then we're going to follow the same path of miscommunication and mistrust. Vicky will end up under care in an asylum, and you'll have yourself voluntarily admitted to the Birdcage. Thousands, tens of thousands, of people will likely die.**_

She was shaken by the sadness, the sincerity in his tone. _What? That's not possible. What happens to Vicky?_

**_You do._**

_No. I don't believe you. You're lying._

_**Not sure that I can, not about important things. Not to you.**_

_Important things? You mean, you've lied to me about unimportant things?_

A tinge of something like embarrassment. _**My name. 'Michael Allen' isn't my real name. But I used it for so long, the last time I was here, that I kind of used it by reflex this time.**_

She wondered briefly what he meant by 'the last time I was here', but decided to shelve the matter for another time. _So what's your real name?_

He told her.

_Really? But that's -_

_**Yeah. Look, it's not important. Call me whatever you like. We need to sort out what's going to happen right now. I can't force you to trust me, and I can't prove something that's not gonna happen for months. But we need to work together on this.**_

Her tone was bitter. _Can't you just force me to do it? Control my body so I go where you think I should go, do what you say I need to do? It's not like I'll have any real say in the matter, after all._

_**No.**_

She frowned, puzzled. _What? But before, you -_

His tone was patient. _**I could, easily. But I won't. I choose not to. If we're going to work together on this, it's not going to be a master-slave situation. Equal partners. And I want you to be able to **_**know**_**that I won't abuse that control.**_

_Oh._ She considered his words for a minute. _Okay._ Standing up from the bed, she went to the closet. _Can I change back to street clothes now, or are you going to freak out again?_

A sigh. _**Right. Thanks for the warning.**_

As she opened the closet and pulled clothing out, she felt him retreat a little. His voice started up, again, reciting another poem, with which she was also unfamiliar.

_**On the outer Barcoo, where churches are few, and men of religion are scanty ...**_

* * *

She listened to the recital curiously as she changed, a smile crossing her face at some of the humorous verses. When she had finished, she raised her mental 'voice' slightly. _Done._

_**Oh, good.**_ He stopped reciting.

_Now I'm going to talk to Mom and Dad. Mark and Carol._

_**Wait, what? What about?**_

_You'll see._

His tone was concerned. _**It's not about me, is it? Because I really don't think this is a great time -**_

She cut him off. _It's not about you. Trust me._

After a long moment, he replied. _**Okay, I trust you.**_

She relaxed just a little at that. The last thing she needed was for him to be grabbing control at an inopportune moment.

Leaving her room, she headed down the corridor to the head of the stairs. For a moment, she debated getting Vicky out of her room. _She deserves to know this, too._

_**Know what?**_

_You'll see. _In the end, she decided to leave her sister in peace. _There's always later._

* * *

Heading down the stairs, she saw her father in the living room, reading the paper, or at least looking at it. "Dad?" she asked. "Where's Mom?"

"I'm in the kitchen," Carol Dallon called out, before Mark could answer. "What do you need, Amy?"

Amy got to the bottom of the stairs and went into the kitchen. "I need to talk to the both of you, please?"

Carol, apron-clad and with a smudge of flour on her nose, opened the oven and peered in. Cooking smells wafted over Amy. "That smells nice," she told her mother. "What are you making?"

"A batch of cookies, to cheer your sister up," Carol informed her. "Can it wait?"

"Not really, but it shouldn't take long," Amy informed her. _If I wait too long, I won't be able to go through with it._

_**With what?**_

_You'll see._

_**Hm. Okay.**_ He fell silent again.

Carol huffed a sigh of impatience. "Well, okay. What's it about?"

"I need to talk to _both _of you," Amy stressed. "Dad, too."

For a moment, she thought Carol was going to refuse, but she sighed again and twisted a clockwork egg-shaped timer to three minutes, and put it on the bench. "I can't leave these go for too long," she pointed out, then took off the apron.

_Yeah, _Amy thought dryly. _And I notice you didn't make any to cheer __**me**__ up._

The voice inside her head declined to comment, in a very pointed manner.

When they came out into the living room, Mark was still looking at the paper; as far as Amy could tell, he had not even turned the page.

"Mark," Carol began, "Amy's got something she needs to talk to us about."

Mark looked up mildly and folded the paper. "Okay, Amy girl," he invited. "What's up?"

Amy moved to where she could look both her foster parents in the face. "I want to know my father's name."

There was a long, long silence. Amy fancied she could hear dust motes touching down on the table.

_**Well, holy shit. I am impressed.**_

She was irrationally pleased. _Didn't expect that, did you?_

**_No. No, I did not._**

_Was it the wrong thing to say?_

**_On balance, I don't think so. But this is gonna be interesting._**

* * *

Carol found her voice first. "Why do you ask that, Amy?"

Amy frowned. "Isn't it obvious? I want to _know."_

**_You want to know if they'll actually come clean, after hiding it all this time._**

_Well, duh. Now shut up, I don't want to be distracted._

Mark glanced at Carol. "Would it be such a bad thing to tell her?" he asked. "After all, she _is_ sixteen. Nearly an adult."

Carol shook her head convulsively. "No." She looked Amy directly in the eye. "It's better that you do not know, Amy. Better that the world doesn't know."

"Why?" challenged Amy. "Because he's a supervillain? Because he's in the Birdcage? What possible reason could there be for keeping that from me?"

Carol went several shades whiter, until her face almost matched the dab of flour on her nose. "Who told you?" she whispered. "How did you know?"

Amy shook her head. "It doesn't matter. It really, really doesn't. What I want to know is, why won't _you_ tell me?"

Mark opened his mouth. "Amy girl -" He stopped when Carol made a sharp gesture.

"Amy." Carol's voice was low and controlled. "Yes, your father is a supervillain. We made the decision years ago not to tell you, when you were showing signs of forgetting who he actually was, so that you could live a _normal_ life, without that burden hanging over you. So that you wouldn't have the doubt in your mind, am I like him?"

Amy shook her head again. "No, Carol," she snapped. Carol's lips tightened, at Amy's tone. "You did it so that _you _wouldn't have to worry about me turning out like him." She paused, deliberately. "Like Marquis." She looked from Carol to Mark and back again. "Only you never forgot it, did you? You never stopped wondering if I was going to turn out like him _anyway._ So you treated me like I was going to."

"Amy girl." That was Mark. "I didn't … we didn't ..."

Amy gave him a sad smile. "No, you didn't. But you're only half the partnership here." She turned back toward Carol. "You never, ever said that you loved me. You never _hugged_ me. You've always pushed me to do better, to work harder, to try to please you, so that I would earn the same praise that Vicky always earned just by being Vicky."

Carol found her voice. "I never made you -"

"No, you didn't," Amy overrode her. "I _loved_ you. Don't you understand? You were my mother figure. I wanted you to love me back, to approve of me, to hold me. I always thought that if I did a bit better, did exactly what I was told every single day, you might give me just a little of what Vicky got _every single day of her life."_

The egg timer went off in the kitchen. Everyone jumped.

Amy took a deep breath. "Well, time's up," she announced bitterly. "I'm going out."

Mark stumbled to his feet. "Wait, Amy girl," he told her. "I'll drive you -"

She shook her head. "Sorry. This is a 'me time' thing. I'll bus it." Again, she gave him a sad smile. "Thanks for the talk."

Grabbing her jacket, she turned and headed for the door. It banged shut behind her.

* * *

Amy sat at the bus stop, waiting for the next bus to come.

_**Well, holy shit.**_

_You said that before._

_**That was surprise. This time it was deep admiration.**_

_What – really? I thought that went terribly._

There was a chuckle. _**There was no real way for that to go well, kiddo. But you didn't shout or scream, you got your message across, and you left before they could think up an appropriate rebuttal.**_

_I was terrified. I think I nearly threw up._

_**Well, you didn't. So you did good.**_

_Thanks. I think. Have I just alienated them?_

_**Hmm, let me think. Have you just alienated the two people who spent the last ten years of your life hiding an important fact from you? Possibly. Did they deserve what you just said to them? Almost definitely. Will they treat you any differently? Well, it would be hard for them to treat you **_**worse.**

She blinked at that. _I … I guess you're right._

_**How do you feel, now that you've gotten that off your chest?**_

_Weird. I mean, I'm terrified of what's going to happen when I go home -_

_**Eh. Walk in, pretend everything's normal. You'd be amazed how often that works.**_

_And if they __**don't**__ pretend everything's normal?_

There was amusement in his tone. _**I don't think they'll be wanting to raise that particular topic again in a hurry, will they?**_

She thought about it. _No, I don't suppose so. _She paused. _So, where are we going?_

There was a pause. _**Uh, I don't know. You're driving, remember?**_

_You said that I needed to reach out to the Undersiders. I'm reaching out._

_**What, really?**_

_Yes. Really. Unless you were lying to me._

_**No, no, god no. I'm just a little surprised at your go-getter attitude all of a sudden. And pleased. Very pleased.**_

She hid a smile. _I'm a bit surprised, too. It's amazing what a little revelation about one's origins will do. So, which bus?_

**_Um, crap, I never actually memorised the bus schedule. _**She felt him take control of her head, and her eyes scanned the laminated sheet posted up on the bus stop wall. Unbidden, her finger rose to point. **_I think that one there will get us to the north ferry terminal, right?_**

_You do know that the ferry's been shut down for the last sixteen years or so, right?_

_**I know that. We're walking from there. It's about twenty minutes or so. Maybe half an hour.**_

_That's not a good part of town._

_**So we'll walk fast.**_

_I'm beginning to think this was a bad idea._

_**We can go back, if you want.**_

She set her jaw. _No. We go on._

A mental impression of a smile. **_That's my girl._**

* * *

Lisa raised her head. "Someone's -"

Rachel's dogs burst into furious barking. Claws scrabbled on hardwood flooring as they bounded to their feet and ran toward the spiral staircase. It wasn't something they could negotiate in a hurry, but they kept barking as they descended the stairs.

"- out at the front," she concluded.

Taylor turned her head slightly. "Yeah. Not an adult. A teenager, I think." She paused. "They're alone. No-one within fifty yards. A hundred."

"Banging on the door with a rock," Lisa added. "She really wants to get in."

"'She'?" asked Brian. "Really?"

"And she's right-handed, about five-four, and … sixteen years old," Lisa retorted with an impudent grin, one that curled the corners of her mouth up.

Brian came to his feet; Lisa followed. Alec looked up as Brian put the game controller down. "Oh, man," he complained. "We just got to the end of level boss, too!"

"Do we let her in?" asked Lisa. "She knows we're here."

Brian's lips tightened. "Rachel, come on," he snapped. "Let's get downstairs and see what this girl wants."

"Should we mask up?" asked Taylor, a little nervously. "Does this sort of thing happen much?"

Lisa snorted. "Hardly ever." She nodded to Taylor. "Go ahead, mask up." She plucked the domino mask from where it was resting on the chair arm and put it on her face. "Alec, you too."

"Aw, man," complained Alec again, but he grabbed his mask and put it on. As he was still dressed in the majority of his costume, it fitted with the rest of his outfit. Taylor, however, had changed out of her costume into street clothes, so her Skitter mask just made her look extra creepy.

"They'll be bringing her upstairs so we can find out what the hell's going on," Lisa confided as the sound of barking dropped away dramatically. Moments later, Grue's darkness billowed up the stairs, filling the room.

When it cleared, the newcomer was standing in the middle of the living area, held in a light arm lock by Brian. The hood of her jacket had been pulled up over her head, and down so that she couldn't see.

Taylor stared; she looked awfully familiar -

"Holy shit," blurted Tattletale. "That's fucking _Panacea."_

* * *

End of Part Three


	4. Chapter 4

**I, Panacea**

* * *

Part 4: Villainous Interactions

* * *

Amy banged on the metal door with a rock she had found.

_I feel silly. Are you sure there's someone home?_

_**I'm certain of it. Hear those dogs?**_

_What if they've gone out and left the dogs in here?_

_**Nope, Bitch wouldn't do that. They're more dear to her than kids.**_

The barking was closer now, just inside the door that she was banging on.

_**You might want to drop the rock now.**_

_Why?_

_**So you don't look like a threat.**_

_Oh._

She dropped the rock, just as the door was yanked open and three dogs leaped out. They circled around her, barking madly, as a tall black teenager and a shorter, stockier auburn-haired girl - Grue and Hellhound, she guessed – each grabbed her by an arm. Before she could protest, she was hauled into the warehouse and the door slammed behind her.

Grue pushed her against the wall, not hard, and frisked her, quickly and efficiently. He came away with her purse and her phone, but not much else. "What are you doing here?" he asked, holding her arm behind her back. "Why were you trying to break in?"

She was vividly aware of the dogs; no longer barking, they were eyeing her and growling ferociously. Hellhound stood off, watching her with a grim set to her jaw. Hostility fairly radiated from the female villain.

"Not trying to break in," Amy managed, turning her head to look at him out of the corner of her eye. "Wanted to talk to you guys. To the Undersiders."

"The fuck?" growled the girl, her head coming up. The dogs took a step forward, their growls intensifying in volume.

Amy felt the tall black guy's grip tighten on her wrist. "Rachel," he snapped. "Back off."

Hellhound - Rachel - stood for a long moment, a challenging look in her eye. Then, apparently satisfied that she'd proven that she did not just blindly follow orders, she stepped back and clicked her tongue. The dogs stepped back with her.

"You want to talk to us?" asked Grue. "We can do that."

_I didn't like the way he said that._

He pulled the hood of her jacket up and over her head, and then down, so that she couldn't see anything except her feet. And then even they disappeared. She couldn't see anything at all. Even her hearing was muffled, almost to the point that she thought she'd gone deaf.

The presence in her head was calm, reassuring. _**You weren't meant to. He's just trying to intimidate you. Like right now, his darkness? Scare tactic. Keep you off balance.**_

_Well, he's succeeding._ But she wasn't as frightened as she might have been.

_**You're doing well. Just remember what we talked about. And Skitter isn't about to see an innocent get hurt. Watch your step. Spiral staircase coming up.**_

_Trusting an awful lot in the goodwill of someone that Vicky threatened to send to the Birdcage. That I threatened to do awful things to with my powers._

_**Tempers were high,**_ he assured her. _**Hurting someone in cold blood, that's something that Regent might do. Rachel's never really calm either. But Grue and Tattetale and Skitter won't let that happen.**_

She felt her left hand being guided on to a railing, one that curved up and around to the right. Grue – she presumed it was Grue – still held her right arm behind her back. Forewarned, she felt for the first step, while simultaneously being prodded, guided and supported by Grue.

The climb seemed interminable. Ascending a spiral staircase is by no means an intuitive process, given that the part of the brain inherited from one's monkey ancestors is used to climbing in _straight_ lines. Doing so in the dark puts an even greater strain on the instinctive reactions. _How much farther?_

She could hear him mumbling in the back of her head. _**Twelve more steps. Thirty-three in all.**_

_How can you know that?_

_**Been here before. Counted 'em.**_

_But how -_

_**Long story. Maybe after we finish negotiating with the nice supervillains?**_

_Okay._ She shut up and concentrated on climbing steps. Step, turn, slide hand on rail, step, turn ...

_**Top step.**_

_Okay, thanks. _She put her foot flat to what felt like a wooden floor to her heightened senses, and was walked forward a little way.

And then the darkness faded. She could only see a little way in front of her, due to her hood still being pulled down over her face. But it didn't stop her from hearing Tattletale's voice.

"Holy shit. That's fucking _Panacea."_

* * *

Amy reached up and pushed her hood back, looking around at the supervillains surrounding her. Regent, she recognised immediately, along with Hellhound, or Rachel, as Grue had called her. The girl with the dark blonde hair, which she was running her fingers through to shake out of a braid, wore street clothes, but her domino mask told Amy that she was looking at Tattletale. The other girl looked ordinary from the neck down, if a bit skinny. From the neck up, she was Skitter; already, bugs were gathering in a nimbus around her. More were swarming into the area with every second that passed.

She stood in a loft area above the warehouse. The floor underfoot was wooden, with rugs here and there. High windows, in need of cleaning, gave light, but did not afford a view from Amy's angle. Two couches, a big-screen TV on a stand, and a gaming console under the TV seemed to make up the majority of the furnishings in this room. A corridor led out of the area, but she had no idea what was in that direction.

_**Kitchen, bathroom, their bedrooms. Skitter has yet to move in.**_

She was almost startled by his comment. _Oh, uh, thanks._

_**You might want to say something.**_

But she didn't get the chance; Skitter spoke first.

"Everyone, be careful of her," the skinny girl warned them. "She can do more than just heal people. Grue, don't let her touch your skin."

"Got it," grunted the tall guy behind her, but before he could put word into action, Amy felt her limbs being taken over. She rammed her elbow into what felt like an iron-hard gut – _**God, does he eat barbells for breakfast or something?**_ \- raked her heel down his shin, and turned and twisted at the same moment. Caught off guard, he let go; Amy felt herself step back until her back was against the wall. Rubbing her wrist, she eyed each of the Undersiders.

_What are you doing?_

_**Showing them that you're not a pushover.**_ Control was returned to her. _**They're wary of you now. Use that.**_

"Okay," she stated clearly. "Now that I have your attention, please listen carefully."

_**Check out Tattletale. She's just picked something up.**_

And it was true. The blonde was staring, eyes widening. "Guys ..." she began. "There's something off here. I think she might be Mastered."

"Hey, that's _my_ thing," objected Regent. He waved in Amy's direction, and her knees began to buckle.

And then they didn't. Amy could feel the control inside her body overriding what Regent was trying to do.

"What the fuck?" he muttered.

"A _strong_ Master," Tattletale clarified. She stepped forward until she was a little over arm's length from Amy. "Okay, you brought Panacea here. What's your plan? What are you doing this for?"

"Tell Jean-Paul to quit it, and we can talk about it," Amy heard herself say. She heard an indrawn breath from Grue and Regent; Hellhound didn't react, and she couldn't see Skitter's face. Tattletale's eyes widened just a bit.

Amy felt herself start to panic just a little. _What are you **doing**? We can't antagonise them!_

His voice was terse. _**We have to present a strong front, or they won't take us seriously. Okay, back to you.**_

Control returned to her; she took a deep breath.

"As I was saying," she repeated, "I need you to listen carefully."

Tattletale nodded. "Listening." Her expression was intent.

Amy concentrated on what she had talked to Michael about. What he had told her about the Undersiders. What he had told her to say.

"You've got problems, and you don't even know it," she began. "I'm here to help you fix them. To get past them."

Grue had picked up his motorcycle helmet and was fitting it over his head. "What problems?" he asked, his voice hollow.

Amy held up her hand, ticked off points on her fingers. "Your boss does not have your best interests at heart. He wants to enslave Tattletale and, when Skitter becomes inconvenient, he'll kill her off if he can. He lied to you about the bank robbery; there was a reason for it, and that reason was so that his men could have the opportunity to kidnap a twelve year old girl. Also, I know his real name, and I know exactly what powers he has."

_**Okay, give it time to sink in now.**_

"You could be lying," Grue stated flatly. "Starting with basic information, cold reading us, trying to instil doubt in our minds. Playing with our heads."

"I _could_," Amy retorted. "But that's not me. That's what Tattletale does." She looked directly at him. "I know about you, how you triggered, about your sister. How you want custody of her."

He took a step forward. "If you're threatening … "

Amy shook her head. "Not threatening. Just letting you know that I know." She looked from one to another, repeating what Michael was telling her. "I know stuff about each of you. Your names. How you triggered. Names of people who are or were important to you, once upon a time."

"Wait a minute," interrupted Skitter. "Kidnapped a twelve year old girl?"

_**Bingo.**_

Amy nodded in her direction. "Dinah Alcott. The mayor's niece. She's a powerful precog. He's getting her drugged up, so that she'll do whatever he says. Right. Now."

It was hard to read Skitter's body language, given that her face was hidden, but she sounded shaken when she spoke next. "Tattletale, is that true? What she's saying?"

Tattletale hesitated for the longest moment. "I … don't know. I can't get a read on her. The Master keeps taking over, imposing his body language."

_**Bullshit.**_

"Bullshit!" snapped Amy. "Also, more. Closer to home. The ABB is still looking to take you down."

"But Lung's in custody," objected Regent.

"Probably _why_ they're so eager to get you out of the way," Amy retorted. "Bakuda's hired Uber and L33t to help her do the job."

Grue shook his helmeted head. "You've got to be kidding me. _Those_ losers?"

"Plus a stack of ABB. Including conscripts."

Skitter sounded honestly puzzled. "How do you conscript a gang member and expect them to hang around?"

"Easy." Amy tapped the side of her neck. "Put a bomb in here, keyed to Bakuda's remote detonation control system. You act out, she sends the signal, you suffer the effect of whatever she put in you."

Tattletale sat on a couch, rubbing her temples. "Fuck," she muttered. "Fuck. Every time I try to work you out, you throw another curve ball. Fuck, my head's killing me."

"Detonation system?" asked Grue practically.

"Heads up display in the goggles. Toe rings on her left foot," Amy repeated Michael's words. "Big toe and next toe. She crosses them, the rings come into contact, sends out the signal to the bomb she's chosen."

Tattletale threw herself back on the couch. "Toe rings," she groaned. "Fuck, why didn't _I_ pick that up?"

"Because you need to spend at least a little time interacting with someone to get information like that," Amy pointed out. She was starting to feel a little more confident; with Michael feeding her the information, she was holding her own here.

"So we stay out of their way, or we kick their asses," Regent proposed from his seat.

"Unless they ambush you," Amy responded. "Rachel, you're thinking of taking the dogs for a walk sometime, right?"

Hellhound glared at her. "What's it to you?"

"Because they'll be waiting on you," Amy explained patiently. "They capture you, force you to give up the location of the money, _move_ the money," she looked at the rest of the group, "and when _you_ guys come looking for it, that's when they hit you."

"You're talking like this has already happened," Tattletale remarked. "Which really has me worried. Because I don't know _any_ Master/Thinkers that are powerful precogs."

"No," Amy told her directly, quoting Michael's words. "And you still don't."

Tattletale clutched her forehead. "Argh! Ow!"

Amy felt a little concerned. _Is she all right?_

_**Thinker equivalent of an ice-cream headache. She was following a line of inquiry and she ran head-first into 'nope'.**_ There was a measure of grim amusement in his voice. _**She loves to troll people with what she knows. Turnabout is fair play.**_

_I have to admit, with what she nearly did to me and Vicky …_

Grue cleared his throat. "Okay, presuming we even believe you, what do you get out of this? So far you've come here and given us unsupported allegations. You haven't told us what _you_ want out of all this."

"You're going to need to check them up and act on them, one way or the other," Amy pointed out. "I know that while some of you are happy with going along with your boss, others are less than thrilled about working for him, especially when it comes to the fact of _kidnapped children._ Or are you willing to live with the knowledge that you could have done something … and didn't?"

Amy's eyes tracked toward Skitter; the skinny girl had just moved uncomfortably. Even the bugs orbiting her were moving in a different pattern. _**Oh yeah, she doesn't like that one little bit.**_

"Hell, _I'm _comfortable with it," Regent offered from his seat. "What I'm _not _comfortable with is some walk-in knowing shit like my real name."

"That's because you're a sociopath." Amy told him. "Probably not your fault. Heartbreaker was not a model dad."

Silence again; Skitter's head turned toward Regent, who got out of his seat.

"Okay," he snapped. "I've just about had enough of this -"

He was moving toward Amy, heavy-looking sceptre in his hand, when Grue got in his way.

"Sit. Down."

"What the fuck?" snarled Regent, looking down at the large glove-clad hand that had been placed in the middle of his chest. "You're taking _her_ side in this?"

"You keep sniping at her, you take your lumps," Grue informed him.

"But she said -"

"She _also_ warned us about the ABB," Tattletale spoke up from the couch, where she was leaning back, eyes closed, hand on her forehead. "And gave us valuable intel on Bakuda."

"If it's true," Regent retorted sulkily.

"Oh, it's true," Tattletale informed him. "She's not lying."

"Unless she's being _Mastered,"_ Regent pointed out. "Which you said she is."

"Then the Master isn't lying," she reiterated. "Either way, it's not a lie. She believes what she's saying. And it makes too much sense to not be true."

"And what about the other stuff?" asked Skitter. "About the boss? Enslaving you? Killing me if I become inconvenient? The kidnapped kid? How is that okay? Why aren't we talking about that?"

"Because Tattletale knows who he is, and has a good idea of what his real power is," Amy replied steadily. "And she's been given orders to not tell anyone …" She trailed off, because Tattletale had produced her little pistol again.

_**Christ, she really is between a rock and a hard place.**_

Amy couldn't formulate a reply, because she was staring at the muzzle of the gun. It was tiny, really, just a fraction of an inch across, but to her it looked enormous.

She felt him take over speaking for her. "And because he had her recruited at gunpoint," she heard her own voice say, "and she can't be sure that I'm not pulling some sort of bluff intended to out her if she's intending to betray him."

Grue stared at Tattletale. "You never told me that!" he blurted.

Tattletale sighed. "I never told you a lot of things," she told him. "Panacea, you said before that you know all our real names. Was that true?"

She felt control return again. _**Tell her yes. The other ones are Brian, Lisa and Taylor.**_

"Uh, yes," she confirmed. "Do you want me to prove it?"

A shake of the head. "No, don't bother," replied the blonde. "Are you working for … for the boss, in any way?"

Amy shook her head. "No," she stated firmly. "Just the -"

Tattletale held up her hand. "Don't say any more," she ordered. "'No' is good enough for me. Right. You know stuff, and you've come to us to give us stuff, but you haven't yet told us what you want from us." Absently, she put the gun away.

_**I need to save the world, and you guys are the first step. Plus, I'm going to need a place to stay.**_

_What? I can't say something like that!_

_**Why not?**_

_Because it's … it's too corny, that's what! They'll never believe it. And do I really need a place to stay?_

_**Not sure. Maybe. Okay, tell them this.**_

Amy cleared her throat. "I want you to help me rescue Dinah Alcott."

* * *

End of Part Four


	5. Chapter 5

**I, Panacea**

* * *

Part Five: Arguing the Point

* * *

"I want you to help me rescue Dinah Alcott."

Silence greeted her statement.

Amy looked from one Undersider to another, trying to gauge their responses. Skitter's full-face mask was almost impossible to read, although Amy thought she saw a change in the flight patterns of the bugs orbiting her. Grue, with his full-face helmet, was likewise a blank slate as far as she was concerned.

Regent's head came up; despite his full-face mask, she could easily tell his mood from the tone of his voice. "Really?" he asked – no, _sneered. _"You want us to turn against the guy who's been backing us for a year? Who's paid us thousands of bucks at a time just to stay on his payroll? Who's never steered us wrong yet?"

"No," she replied, trying to keep her voice steady. "I want you to turn against the guy who's been _using_ you all this time. Who would discard or betray you in a hot Brockton Bay minute if it suited him. Who wants to take over the city, at every level, and is willing to do anything, to kill anyone, to murder or torture or enslave absolutely anyone - including any of you five - in order to do so. And who won't feel a moment's remorse about it." She looked over at Grue. "And that includes your sister, if that's what it took to keep you in line," she assured him.

She saw his hands flex, clenching into fists. "What do you know about my sister?" he growled, his voice hollow inside the helmet.

"Just about everything that's important," Amy told him, trying to match Michael's careless tone. "How old she is, what she looks like, where she lives, what she wears, stuff like that. _And,"_ she added meaningfully, "the fact that you're in the villain game so you can take care of her, give her a proper home, keep her safe. And Coil _will _use that against you in a heartbeat."

There was a pause, as she realised what she'd just said, repeating Michael's words. _Did you mean to say Coil's name? I thought we were going to keep that a secret for a little bit._

_**Oh shit. No, I didn't. Sorry, my bad.**_

Skitter spoke first. "Who's Coil?"

Grue was looking at Tattletale. "You mean to say our boss is _Coil?"_ He turned to look at Regent. "Did you know this?"

Regent shrugged. "Didn't know, didn't care. Still don't, not really. Anyone who works for one of the big boys knows the score. Big money, but if you fuck up, big risks."

More and more bugs were swirling around the room; their buzzing was ramping up in intensity.

_**You see that? Skitter's always calm, collected. But that's because she puts her emotions into the swarm. They start acting like that, you know she's pissed.**_

Amy glanced at the skinny bug-controller. She didn't seem to be particularly upset or unhappy; even when she spoke again, her voice was steady and even. "I said, who's Coil?"

Tattletale glanced at Amy; the villain looked less and less happy by the moment. But she did not speak.

"A mid-to-low tier operator," Grue told her. "I'd always heard he hired non-powered help. Didn't know capes were his thing at all. Hell, I didn't even know he had powers."

"Oh, he's got powers all right," Amy told him. "I'm fairly sure you think you know what they are, Tattletale … but I also suspect you're wrong."

"Just wait a fucking minute," Tattletale snapped. "Okay, this bullshit's gone on long enough." She pointed at Amy. "I want to talk to you. Not to Panacea, and not to Panacea saying what the Master says to say. I want to talk directly to the Master."

There was a pause, and Michael spoke delicately. _**You okay with me talking directly to her?**_

Mentally, Amy shrugged. _Sure, may as well._

_**Right, thanks.**_

"You got me," Amy heard herself say. "You realise I'm gonna keep infodumping on your group until you all decide to help out … Sarah."

_Who's Sarah?_ But then Amy realised by the look of shock on Tattletale's face that it must be her.

_Wait a minute. You said her name was Lisa._

_**It is now. She changed it. Sarah's the name she was born with.**_

Tattletale – Sarah – was holding the little pistol again. She wasn't quite pointing it at Amy, but it wasn't far off either. "Keep doing that," she growled, "and this interview gets a whole lot harder."

Amy's shoulders shifted in a shrug. "So, what did you want to talk about?"

"For a start," Tattletale began, "who are you, and how do you know all this stuff?"

Amy's eyes rolled. "For fuck's sake," her voice muttered, "why is it that even the people who know I'm telling the truth keep having to ask damn stupid fucking questions, instead of just _acting_ on the information?"

"I've got the gun," Tattletale reminded Amy, and by extension, Michael. "I ask the questions."

"I'm not from this world," Amy's voice stated. "As for my name, I have several, but for the moment, you can call me Security. As for how I know this … let's just say, I've studied your world for quite a long time. Years, in fact. I know your history, and how it's due to run. I'd like to put a short-circuit on some of the more _moronic_ decisions that some of you people are going to be making. And step number one is_saving the precog who knows when the fucking world is going to end."_

Very slowly, Tattletale put her gun away. "Okay," she replied quietly. "I'm listening."

Abruptly, there was a snort from across the room. Everyone looked at Regent, who appeared to be quietly laughing.

"You mind telling us what's funny?" asked Grue, in his hollow, echoing voice.

Regent pointed at Amy. "Her," he chuckled. "End of the world? Really? That the best you can do?"

Amy felt her lips curling in a thin smile. "I wouldn't worry, Jean-Paul," her voice murmured. "You won't live to see it. If I go away and do nothing from here on in, you're due to die in late July anyway. So for your own good, I'd strongly suggest you pay very bloody close attention."

Regent turned to Tattletale. "She's fucking with me, right? That's bullshit, yeah?"

Tattletale stared at Amy, then looked over at Regent. "No," she told him. "It's Security speaking, and he believes every word he says."

Grue's head came up. "'He'?" he asked.

"'He'," confirmed Tattletale. "That's a man speaking through Panacea. Older, more mature. I'd say in his thirties … no, forties. And unless he's got total and absolute control over her autonomic system, he's telling the truth about everything. Including the end of the world."

"Always keeping the secrets, huh?" Amy's voice carried just a hint of scorn. "If you didn't read more than that about me, then I'd suggest you put away the title of 'smartest person in the room'. Patrick Jane wants it back."

Amy was puzzled. _Who?_

The mental equivalent of a grin. _**Tell you later.**_

Tattletale gritted her teeth. "Okay, _fine_. I also saw that you do know each and every one of us, in more detail than I'm comfortable with. But … you bear us no ill-will. You're honestly coming to us to help us out. To keep us safe. Because we're your best hopes for getting Dinah back … and because you actually happen to _like_ us?" Her voice ended on a querying note, as if she doubted what she had just said.

Amy's hands applauded gently. "And there we are. All cards on the table. You each have problems. Working for Coil might seem to be helping, but not really. The phrase 'deal with the devil' might have been written for him, only by most accounts, the devil keeps to his bargains. Coil has no such scruples. Once the rest of this team loses its effectiveness, you're slated to be on the bed next to Dinah Alcott, drugged to the point where you can't resist, answering questions for him until you die or he does."

She shook her head, frowning. "There's my problem, right there. It _feels_ like you're telling the truth, but I've never, not ever, gotten a vibe like that out of him."

Amy felt her head nodding. "And there's your problem. You're not seeing all of Coil. You see, his power is to effectively split time. He has two paths to travel down, and he can not only interact with the world differently in each path, he can discard one path the moment it ends up where he doesn't want it to be. But he recalls both paths as if he had travelled them both in person. So he might call you in for a quiet chat, sit you down, serve you tea or coffee … and meanwhile in the other path, he's got you strapped to a chair, pulling out your fingernails, cutting off body parts … or worse. All the while asking you questions about what you're saying in the friendly chat. Were you planning to betray him, that sort of thing."

Amy wanted to throw up; she could visualise this, all too easily. But she didn't; her body was not her own, at the moment. She felt her head tilt questioningly. "So tell me," Michael asked in her voice, in a gentle, coaxing tone, "_have_ you ever had a quiet chat like that, where he seemed to know far too much about your business?"

The question was superfluous; Tattletale's face had gone white under her domino mask. "Oh, Christ," she muttered. "Oh, fucking hell."

Amy's head nodded. "Oh yes," she agreed. "All of that. Now, imagine what a person like that, with absolutely zero moral restraints, could do with a twelve year old girl, a precog, whose power does _not_interfere with his. A girl who's being drugged into compliance, right this very second."

Tattletale began to look positively unwell.

"We can't let this happen," Skitter urged Tattletale, her voice a little agitated. "We _can't_ … right?"

Grue stepped forward. "I don't like it either," he stated firmly. "I like the money, but there's more important things than money."

Regent stared. "Seriously?" he blurted. "What the fuck sort of talk is that? More important than money?"

Tattletale and Grue turned to look at him. "Are you standing against us on this?" Grue asked.

Regent shook his head. "No, shit, if it gives me a chance to have some fun, I'm with you all the way. But I thought this bleeding-heart shit was more the dork's thing. Not you guys."

_The dork?_

_**Skitter. She only just joined, remember.**_

_Ah._

"It's not about bleeding hearts," Grue told him. "It's about cutting loose from someone dangerous before he hurts or kills one of ours. And if we're going to have him as an enemy, we don't want him also having access to the Alcott girl."

But Amy's head was shaking. "You're not going to have him as an enemy," her voice stated bluntly.

"Why not?" asked Grue.

"Fuck. Me," whispered Tattletale, her face turning white once more. "You want us to _kill_ him."

* * *

"_Well, __**that**__ was well handled," Carol commented acerbically._

_Mark looked at her, confused. "What? What was I supposed to do? Tie her up and carry her up to her room? Lock her in there till she turned eighteen?"_

_Carol shook her head. "No. But you would have done a lot better if you hadn't just sat there, nodding your head like a wooden dummy. Backed me up a little, maybe."_

"_What?" He stared at her. "Lied about Marquis? She already __**knew**__ about him. How she's a supervillain's daughter. The cat was already out of the bag."_

"_If there's one thing I've learned in court," Carol snapped, "it's that it's not the truth that matters, but what sounds best. We could have spun it, convinced her that she had bad information."_

_Mark shook his head. "We already made the mistake of not telling her about him, back when she first asked. Outright lying to her? When she found out – and she __**would**__ have found out – there goes all trust she ever had for us."_

"_She might not have found out," Carol objected, but it was weak, and she knew it. "And anyway, where __**did**__ she find out? __**How**__ did she find out?"_

_Mark shrugged elaborately. "I have no idea."_

_Carol eyed him suspiciously. "You drove her to the PRT building and back. You had plenty of time to talk. And she's been acting a little bit off since the bank robbery."_

_Mark stared at her. "You think __**I**__ told her?"_

"_You could have," she pressed. "And you've never been totally happy with keeping her in the dark."_

"_But I agreed to," he argued. "And I didn't tell her. Not about that."_

"_What __**did**__ you talk about?" she asked._

"_Stuff," he replied with a shrug. "The mayor's family. Not much, really. She spent most of the drive looking out the window."_

"_So, nothing at all about Marquis at all, then?"_

_He threw up his hands. "For Christ's sake, Carol, no. Nothing about him at all. Full stop. Period. Exclamation mark. Quotation mark. End of sentence."_

_Carol frowned. "So why was she acting strangely when she came back?"_

_Mark rolled his eyes. "She __**was**__ hit on the head, Carol," he reminded her. "Vicky's normally up and about like wildfire, but she's lurking under the covers like she never wants to come out. So Amy's not the only one acting strangely."_

"_But Vicky was actually __**hurt,**__" Carol insisted. "Bug bites can cause severe allergic reactions. Amy just got a little bump on the head."_

"_I don't know then," Mark responded non-committally, dropping his gaze to the paper before him._

"_I've never seen something get Vicky like that before," Carol went on, not listening to her husband. "What happened, anyway? Amy was there. Why didn't she back Vicky up?"_

"_I don't know that either," Mark replied, turning a page of the paper._

"_And why didn't she heal Vicky before they even got back?" Carol's voice had risen slightly. "Those welts and bumps … ugh."_

_Mark turned another page. "I'm sure I don't know, dear."_

_Carol stared at him. "Are you reading the __**paper**__? We're having a discussion!"_

_Mark stood up and folded the paper under his arm. He headed for the stairs._

"_Where are you going?" demanded Carol from behind him._

"_Upstairs," he told her, without looking back. "So you can have your discussion in peace."_

_And all she could do was stare, with her mouth hanging open, as he climbed the stairs._

* * *

End of Part Five


	6. Chapter 6

**I, Panacea**

* * *

Part Six: Arguments and Agreements

* * *

Amy felt her lips twist in what was almost a smile. "You're not shocked because I'm talking about killing him, are you?" her voice asked. "You're shocked because you didn't think anyone else knew that _you_ want to kill him."

_Wait, what? _Amy asked, in her own mind. _We're going to **kill** him? Isn't that a bit extreme? Why can't we just capture him and turn him over to the authorities?_

Mentally, he sighed. _**He's too dangerous for that. His power lets him literally have two chances at everything, including escape attempts.**_

_So have him sent straight to the Birdcage, _she argued.

_**Even if he made it there, he would either be dead or running the place inside six months, and I'm betting on 'running the place'. And probably breaking out in another six. The only absolutely safe way to incarcerate him is to put him in solitary and weld the door shut. And never allow him any sort of uncontrolled communication with the outside world. Anything short of that runs risks that I'm just not willing to take.**_

What frightened her the most wasn't the words he was using. It was the matter-of-fact tone that he took. He meant every single word.

_So we're just going to murder him. _Her voice was bleak.

_**Execute.**_ His was firm. _**Innocents get murdered. Monsters get executed.**_

"Well, well, _well_." Tattletale's voice was bright, her expression one of interest. "It looks like there's dissension in the ranks. Seems as though Panacea isn't as thrilled about the idea of killing Coil as our mysterious 'Security' is."

Amy felt her lips compress slightly, just as she felt the spill-over of the annoyance from the presence sharing her head. "Really?" he asked Tattletale, resignation mixing with the annoyance. "You had to bring _that_ up?"

Tattletale grinned, her smile very fox-like. "Hey, you show off, I show off," she replied unrepentantly.

Amy's eyes rolled. "Not the time, and not the place," her voice stated flatly. "Now, can we get down to business? We need to make a plan, and do it fast."

"What's the rush?" asked Regent. "He doesn't know we're coming, so we can take all the time in the world."

"Except that in twenty-four to forty-eight hours, he will have one of the world's most powerful precogs addicted to whatever drugs he's been feeding her, and she'll be desperate for more, so she will answer any questions he has for her. Questions that he'll be carefully formulating to have a very real chance of uncovering whatever plans you are hatching behind the scenes, unless we're very careful about this."

Tattletale grimaced. "And we're going to have to do this before he calls me in for our next chat. Because if you're right … "

She paused expectantly, and Amy heard herself chime in, right on cue, "And we both know that I am."

Tattletale nodded. "Yeah. He will find out. All about this. About you. And about how we're planning to take him down. Take him out." Her voice was grim, her face set.

Reminded of what they were planning, Amy found her mental voice again. _I'm still really, really not comfortable with this._

_**What can I say to convince you that he really does deserve the quickest death we can give him?**_

_If you know me at all, you'll know that I've spent the last three years of my life helping people, saving lives. I can't even **imagine** helping to kill someone. Much less …_

_**Much less kill them yourself. I got it.**_

_Have **you** ever killed anyone?_

He paused for a long moment. **_I ... yeah, I killed someone. Special circumstances. Saving the world. _**He didn't elaborate, although she got the impression there was much more that he could have said.

_Not Coil?_

_**No. The last time I was in this situation, we had the PRT and the Wards to call on. Plus Canary. Fuck. How am I gonna help **_**her**_** now?**_

_Who, Canary?_

_**Yeah. Sweet girl, getting railroaded by the system. I -**_

"Hey, Panacea, Security, whoever you are," called Tattletale. "Don't zone on us now. Any information you've got on Coil and his operation, it would be handy to know."

Amy felt herself sigh. "Right. Information. Real name, Thomas Calvert. He's the leader of a PRT strike squad. He bought his powers a few years back, but had to spend time using them to earn enough money to pay for them before he was able to strike out on his own."

Tattletale was staring at her again. "Wait, back up. _Bought_ his powers? Who from?"

_**Fuck. Did not mean to let that slip. I'm really not good at this off the cuff shit.**_

Her hand made a gesture, as if erasing a blackboard. "Not important."

Grue spoke up. "But if -"

Amy's head shook in negation. _"Really_ not important. I am not going to name the people involved, but I will assure you they aren't involved directly with Coil's organisation. We do _not_ want to get on their radar in any way, shape or form." She focused directly on Tattletale's bottle-green eyes. _"Do. Not."_

Whatever Tattletale saw in her eyes seemed to shake the blonde supervillain slightly. She blinked. "Okay. We'll shelve that. So he bought his powers, and now he's Coil."

"He is," Amy's voice agreed. "He's also head of a company called Fortress Constructions. They build Endbringer shelters."

"I know 'em," Grue commented unexpectedly. "Did some summer work for them, the year before I triggered."

Amy heard Michael mumbling in the back of her mind. _**Two thousand and eight, or early oh-nine.**_

_Is that important?_

_**Nope. Sorry. I have a habit of fixating on details.**_

_Great. Listen, I'm really not happy with killing -_

_**There's an alternative, but I can almost guarantee you'll be less happy with it.**_

_What's that one?_ she asked incautiously.

_**Brain surgery.**_

_I don't do brains, _she replied automatically.

_**But you could if you wanted,**_ he responded. _**So very easily. Brains **_**are**_** biology, after all.**_

_It's **wrong**! I could give in to the wrong impulse, make them do, think, whatever I wanted. What if I'm as evil as Carol thinks I am? What if doing it once makes me want to screw with the heads of everyone I meet?_

A mental sigh. _**Wasn't saying you should. But it's an alternative. You could change just one aspect of his personality, so that he uses his powers for good.**_

Her voice was bitter. _And if you decide I should 'fix' another villain, and another? Where do I stop? Where do I draw the line?_

His was almost gentle. _**These are desperate times, kiddo. The world's going to end in two years, or fourteen, depending on whether we manage to stop a psychopath in time. Sometimes, it's not 'where' we draw the line, but 'when'.**_

Her heart tried to lurch at his words, but she didn't have control over her body at the moment. _The end of the world?_

_**Afraid so.**_

_Psychopath? Coil?_

_**No. Jack Slash.**_

_He ends the world?_

"Good grief," muttered Tattletale. "Are you two having an argument or making out in there? Is there anything else we need to know?"

His attention swung outward, toward the Undersiders, who were all watching her. "Uh, yeah," she heard herself say. "Fifty mercs, more or less. They have undermounts on their guns, fire a purple laser beam that'll cut steel. Tinker-built. The mercs are well-trained. Also, there's a vault in the lower level that's got a monstrous Case 53 inside. You do _not_ allow her to come into physical contact with you. If you're _lucky_, she'll eat you alive."

"And if we're unlucky?" Tattletale's voice was hushed.

Amy drew a deep breath. "She holds your body inside hers, and spits out evil twisted clones. Clones that know everything you do, and hate everything and everyone you love. They'll have powers based vaguely on yours, but different. Sometimes more dangerous. These clones are independent, sentient, living creatures from the moment that they're produced, but you _have_ to kill them. Consider them to be Smurfed in the worst possible way."

"You mean 'Simurghed'," Tattletale corrected her.

"Same same," Amy's voice conceded irritably. "You knew what I meant." She looked at the villains in the room. "Her name's Noelle, and she's well on the way to becoming an S-class threat. So we have to figure out what to do with her before we go in there. Before we take down Coil."

Grue raised his hand slightly. "I'm beginning to wonder if we even can."

"You're the fucking _Undersiders!"_ Amy heard her voice rise sharply. "In another reality, you fucking _owned_ this city! You took on the Protectorate, the PRT, the Nine, Dragon, Echidna -"

"Fucking _what?"_ interrupted Regent, his voice amused. "What the fuck's an echidna?"

"A small Australian animal, like a porcupine but not really," Tattletale told him absently. "Echidna … that's this girl Noelle, isn't it?"

Amy felt herself nodding. "It was a codename they gave her. She did a lot of damage, killed a few heroes. One of her clones killed Myrddin. And she really wanted to kill you guys for killing Coil. So any plan we make has _got_ to include a way to neutralise her." She took a step forward. "But what I'm trying to tell you is that you guys _have_ the wherewithal to step up, to take on the big leagues. Before you're done, you totally rearrange the political landscape. One of you kills _Alexandria,_ for fuck's sake."

_What?_

"What?" blurted Grue.

"What?" echoed Tattletale.

"You're _shitting _me," Regent declared.

Even Rachel glanced up from where she was sitting with her dogs; up till this point, she had apparently spent very little time paying attention to what was being said.

"Who?" Tattletale asked.

Amy felt her eyes fix on the supervillain's face, and not leave it. "Not important. Plus, special circumstances."

For the longest time, Tattletale stared back at her, then the bottle-green eyes flickered sideways just once, almost too fast to see. She nodded. "Oh."

Amy hadn't quite seen who she'd been looking at; she waited for the villain to reveal what she'd realised, but no word came.

"Oh, indeed," her voice replied. "Now, we can _do_ this. We just have to figure out how."

* * *

"_Mom?"_

_Carol put the iron down and looked around. It was probably a good thing that Vicky had interrupted her; she was driving the hot implement over the clothing with a little too much force and vigour, and the chance of causing damage to the delicate fabric was rising all the time._

"_Yes, Victoria?" she asked. "Are you feeling better?"_

_Vicky, still wearing her pyjamas, had stopped at the bottom of the stairs. "Yeah, that nap was just what I needed. The fight at the bank really took it out of me. I wanted to thank Amy for fixing my bug bites. Where is she?"_

_Carol breathed deeply through her nose, trying to stem the irritation she felt at hearing that name. "Amy," she replied, biting the name off sharply, "has gone out. She did not tell us when she would be back."_

_Vicky frowned. "Mom, what's the matter? What happened? Is something wrong?" She came forward to put her hands on Carol's shoulders. "Are you angry at Amy?"_

_Carol gathered her daughter – her **real** daughter – into her arms. "It's nothing that you need to worry about, Vicky. Everything's fine now."_

_Vicky hugged her back. "Are you sure? Because you were ironing those clothes like you had a personal grudge against them."_

_She felt her anger flare up again. "Vicky. Please. Drop it."_

_Her daughter put her at arm's length again and studied her intently. "Mom, you're starting to worry me."_

_Carol sighed; the genuine concern in Vicky's voice served to damp down the heat of her irritation. "Okay, come on. Let's sit down. I have something to tell you."_

* * *

"Next bus should be by in about five minutes," Tattletale – or rather, Lisa – announced, as the bus stop came into view.

"Thanks," Amy told her. "And I appreciate you guys walking me back."

"Still think we could have been faster riding," Rachel growled.

"Some of us have costumed identities," Grue reminded her.

"So we costume up," Alec observed; he was no more a fan of walking than Rachel was.

Grue raised an eyebrow. "Which draws attention. Which we do _not_ need, especially not now."

Taylor stepped up alongside Amy. "I'm really sorry about the knife thing. And the baton thing," she told the older girl in a low voice. "And the black widow thing. I just didn't want anyone getting hurt."

"So you put deadly poisonous spiders on everyone," Amy returned dryly.

* * *

She had found the Undersiders, once they had decided to unmask to her, to be surprisingly likeable. Lisa had led the trend, noting that Security knew all their faces and identities anyway; Amy had been surprised to see how much difference the mask and the messy hair made to her appearance. She had already seen Brian's face, while Alec's had higher cheekbones, was more delicate. Rachel almost ignored the whole concept of a secret identity, which kind of made sense, as her real identity was out there anyway, along with her face. But Taylor, the newest member, the bug girl …

Amy had been ready to dislike her. After all, the girl had threatened a couple of dozen innocents with black widow spiders. But there was nothing of the hardened criminal about her. Removing the mask had revealed a reasonably plain face, with large eyes and a wide mouth. Putting on her round-lensed glasses had completed the transformation from supervillain to perfectly normal high-school student.

* * *

"I wasn't going to use them to _bite_ anyone," Taylor insisted. "It was just to make sure that no-one tried to be a hero, you know? That sort of thing gets people hurt. We just wanted to get in and out with the money." She still felt bad about it, Amy could see.

"So meanwhile," Amy agreed with a crooked grin, "I tried to be a hero and got hurt."

"I'm _sorry,"_ Taylor repeated. "I was _never _going to hurt you. Things just … got out of hand."

Amy rubbed the sore spot on the side of her head. "Yeah. I suppose you could say that."

"Hey, you made my head ring, too," Taylor reminded her. "You swing a mean fire extinguisher." She paused. "Is Glory Girl all right? After she dislocated Lisa's shoulder, I didn't want to take any chances."

Amy nodded. "Yeah, but she's still a bit shell-shocked. No-one's ever done that to her before." She paused. "Uh, Security says that it's probably a good thing. Now she'll be a bit more careful. She's always been too dependent on her invulnerability."

Reminded of her passenger, she sent an inward query. _Are you still there?_

_**Sure. I'm staying out of it for now. Carry on, you're doing fine.**_

_Okay, thanks._

"I have to say," Lisa commented, leaning up against the bus stop, "that it was one hell of a shock to have you show up on our doorstep like that. Did Security tell you to come?"

Amy shook her head as she gratefully sat down. "No, actually. He wanted me to reach out to you, but it was my idea to come here today, now."

"Why did you?" asked Brian bluntly.

Amy didn't answer for a moment. Instead, she watched Rachel with her three dogs; giving them commands both verbal and silent, sending them here and there, retrieving a stick or a ball with absolute precision.

Raising her eyes back to Brian's face, she spoke slowly, consideringly. "He told me about Dinah Alcott, and the situation she was in. I didn't believe him, not at first, not until I had confirmed that the Mayor had a niece, and that she'd been kidnapped. Then I wanted to see what sort of people you really were. I didn't believe him about that either. But that's why I came. So I could see, and decide what to do next."

"You did the right thing," Taylor told her firmly. "We _will_ help her."

Lisa was rubbing her chin. "Not the only reason," she mused. "Something else. Some anger there. A fight. A confrontation."

_**Oh. Which reminds me.**_

_What? What of?_

_**Tell you later.**_

_Oh, uh, okay?_

Amy watched Lisa cautiously. "Do you _have_ to go there?" she asked.

Lisa made a vague gesture. "My power. It feeds me conclusions."

Amy sighed. "Okay then, _yes_. I confronted my parents about what you said in the bank. About my father. They didn't want to tell me, there was some yelling, so I went out, and came here. Because I wanted _something_ positive to happen today."

Lisa tilted her head. "I never told you who your father was." A pause. "Ah. Security. Does he know about the other thing – oh, yeah, I see he does." A frown creased her face. "How does he feel – ah."

Amy felt her cheeks flaming red. _"You can shut up now,"_ she gritted.

_**Ahem. Ask her how Rex is doing these days.**_

Amy looked at Lisa's dancing eyes, her mischievous grin. "I just got told to ask you how Rex is doing these days."

And just like that, the light died in Lisa's eyes, the grin fell away. "Low blow," she muttered. "Low fucking blow."

_Who's Rex?_

_**Her older brother. Committed suicide. Caused her to trigger.**_

_Christ, you could have **told** me. I'd never have said it like that._

_**She was giving you a hard time!**_

_It was all in fun! Jesus!_

Amy stood up, opened her arms and hugged Lisa. "Look, I'm sorry," she muttered. "I didn't mean to – he told me to say it, didn't tell me who Rex was."

Just for a moment Lisa leaned into the embrace, then she pulled away. "Hey, don't go getting ideas now, just because I'm blonde," she snarked, the grin returning to her face.

Amy rolled her eyes and jabbed Lisa in the ribs. "Seriously," she growled. "You villains and your sense of humour."

"Help, help, I'm being brutalised by a superhero," Lisa announced in a deadpan voice. Brian started chuckling, followed by Taylor. Alec looked bored; Rachel glanced over, then ignored them thereafter.

The dogs heard the bus first; they turned their heads and one of them barked; Rachel hushed it with a word. It was still a little distance away; Amy turned toward Rachel. "I've been meaning to ask," she commented. "What are your dogs' names?"

Rachel pointed at them each in turn. "Brutus. Judas. Angelica." As they heard their names, their heads came up and their ears twitched.

Amy nodded. "Before I go, if you want, I could check them over."

Rachel glared at her. "What, you think I don't take care of my dogs?"

_All I did was offer. What did I do wrong?_

_**Don't be tentative. Be positive. Look her in the eye.**_

Amy took a deep breath, and forced herself to look the bulkier girl in the eyes. It wasn't easy for her; she naturally tended toward deference. "No, I don't think that," she stated as firmly as she could. "But my power gives me the ability to see if anything, anything at all, is wrong with them. Parasites that have only just lodged. Diseases they've only just caught. Cuts, bruises. I can fix all that. But only if you want me to."

She held the stare as Rachel continued to glare at her. Gradually, a little of the hostility leached out, and Rachel nodded sharply. "Okay." She whistled, and the dogs sat down in front of her in a row.

Amy went to thank her, but found that the words would not come out.

_**Don't thank her. It doesn't mean anything to her.**_

_Oh. Okay._

Dropping to one knee, she ran her hands over the muzzle and head of the dog called Brutus. He was in good health; there were a couple of old injuries, but they weren't hampering him. She moved to Judas, and found a cut on his pad, which she closed over, and the beginning of an ear infection, which she cleared up. Finally, she went to Angelica. The torn ear was only cosmetic, but the missing eye -

"I can grow her eye back if you want."

Rachel stared down at her. "What?"

"Her eye. I can grow it back."

"Will it work?"

"Yes. It will work." Did the girl think she'd give the dog a non-working eye?

"Good. Do it."

_Wow, I see what you mean about not understanding 'thanks'._

_**She doesn't think 'human'. She thinks 'dog'.**_

_Oh. Okay. I think._

Angelica whimpered and shifted under her hands as the eye began to reform in the socket, but a sharp word from Rachel held the animal still. In seconds, the operation was complete, and the dog was blinking at them from two perfectly normal eyes. She looked somewhat confused for a few moments, but seemed to be adjusting well. Rachel leaned down and snapped her fingers on either side of the dog's head; covering the good eye with her hand, she watched as Angelica tracked her finger with the the regrown one.

She slapped Amy on the shoulder. "It works. Good."

_I see what you mean. I feel as though I've just been fed a doggy treat for doing a trick properly._

There was an amused snort. _**Something like that.**_

The bus pulled up at the stop, and the doors opened; Amy got up, dusted her knee off and nodded to the Undersiders. "I'll see you guys later then."

Brian nodded back. "See you then. And thanks for stepping up."

Amy shook her head. "Can't let that shit fly."

She turned and climbed on board the bus; to her surprise, Taylor followed.

"What's going on?" asked Amy. "Are you bodyguarding me home?"

Taylor shook her head. "Nope. I need to get home, too."

They found seats down the back, away from everyone else. Amy shook her head. "Somehow, I never thought of supervillains riding the bus. It just doesn't fit the image."

Taylor grinned. "You'll have to excuse me. I'm only new at it."

For some reason, this struck Amy as being very funny.

* * *

End of Part Six


	7. Chapter 7

**I, Panacea**

* * *

Part Seven: Questions and Answers

* * *

Taylor looked directly at Amy. "Listen ... before we go any farther, can you answer some questions for me?"

_Uh ... what do I say?_

_**Say yes. I suspect that these are questions you'd like answered, too.**_

Amy nodded. "Yes." She paused. "That is, Security will be telling me the answers, and I'll be passing them on to you."

Behind her glasses, Taylor frowned slightly. "Not to say that I don't trust you, but ... "

_**May I?**_

Amy sighed internally. _Okay. Go ahead._

"But you're wondering if she'll give you the answers I give her, right?"

Taylor blinked slightly. "I'm talking to ... Security, now, right?"

Amy's mouth curled into a slight smile. "That's me. Mike Allen, at your service."

"Right." Taylor took a breath. "How can I know that I can trust what you have to tell me?"

Amy felt herself shrug. "You'll have to make up your own mind on that. But I'll tell you now; I know things about you that you don't think anyone else knows, I know things about you that not even _Lisa_knows … and I know things about that _you_ don't know. And I'm willing to share."

"I'm really not sure how to take that," Taylor responded. "You could be running a huge bluff."

"Not on Lisa. She'd know if I was lying. Or if Amy was. You noticed she could tell between when I was talking, when Amy was talking, and when Amy was telling her what I was saying?"

Reluctantly, Taylor nodded. "Yeah. So, uh, talking about Lisa, would you be able to tell me … "

Amy felt her eyebrow lift. "Does she know? Yeah. She knows."

Taylor paled. "Shit."

Amy's head shook slightly. "Don't worry about it. She knows that you'd decide, eventually, to join them for real. She's not going to out you to them."

"Oh." Taylor paused, her gaze becoming introspective.

_Is this about her being a hero and infiltrating them?_

_**Yeah. Lisa knew from the start. But she was kind of suicidal, so Lisa took her under her wing anyway.**_

_Oh. Because of her brother?_

_**Basically, yeah.**_

Amy paused to consider that. Lisa was being nice to Taylor because she wanted to help her …

_You realise, this is really screwing with my perception of how villains are supposed to act._

_**I find it helps if you ignore the descriptor and focus on the actions and the motivations.**_

Oblivious to the silent conversation, Taylor spoke up again. "Armsmaster told me that there are two murderers in the Undersiders. Who are they? And who kills Alexandria?"

Amy felt her throat being cleared. _**Oh boy. This is going to be interesting.**_

_Why? What's the matter?_

_**You'll see.**_

"Before I answer that, Taylor," Amy's voice replied, "I need you to remember to keep an open mind. All right?"

Taylor grimaced. "Oh shit. _Lisa?"_

A shake of the head. "Taylor. Open mind. Okay?"

"Okay." Taylor bit her lip slightly. "So tell me."

Amy took a deep breath. "Alec is one of them. I mentioned that he's Heartbreaker's son, yeah?"

"Uh, I've _heard_ of Heartbreaker," Taylor admitted. "But I don't know too much about him."

"Canadian villain. Emotion controlling powers. He can rewrite your entire mindset regarding himself. Make you love him, utterly loyal, scared to death, whatever. And it doesn't wear off, if he doesn't want it to. He meets celebrities in the street, talks to them for thirty seconds, and they willingly come home with him." Amy was surprised by the flat, hard tone of her own voice.

_Wow, you don't like him very much._

_**Would you?**_

She considered for a moment. _I don't suppose I would._

"Christ," muttered Taylor. "Why haven't they - "

"Arrested him?" Amy's shoulders rose and fell in another shrug. "They tried. Everyone who comes near him falls under his spell. Anyone who tries to get close has to get through all the innocents; people who will literally lay down their lives for him. So they leave him be."

"That's horrible." Taylor looked sick. "And Alec is one of his kids?"

Amy's head nodded. "He wanted to get away from the old man. But before he managed it, he was ordered by Heartbreaker to kill one of his minions, a man who had let him down. So he did. Forced the man to kill himself."

"A murderer." Taylor's voice was hard.

"Under duress by Heartbreaker," Amy's voice reminded her. "The reason he doesn't seem to be a very nice person? That's years of his father screwing with his head."

"Oh. Okay." She paused for a moment. "And the other murderer?"

"Rachel."

Taylor's eyes opened wider for a moment, then she slowly nodded. For a moment, one hand rested on the other sleeve. "Yeah. I can believe that."

"Taylor." Amy's voice was flat. "Listen to me. Rachel has had a really horrible deal. You already know that she spent ten years in the foster system, right?"

Taylor nodded again. "Yeah. Brian told me." Her tone wasn't as flat, any more.

Amy's voice went on. "Abandoned by her mother when she was four, put into the foster system. Systematically targeted by all the other kids, until she learned to fight back, and hit hard and fast, before they could hit her."

That shot went home, Amy saw. Taylor was jolted to her heels.

_Why did that affect her so much?_ Then she realised. _Oh – you said she was bullied._

_**Yeah. Up till now she's seen Rachel as a thug. Now, she might see why she's like that.**_

Taylor looked at Amy. "When did she … "

"Become like she is now? It took ten years. She was seen as a troublemaker, nothing she did was good enough, nothing she owned was sacred. Until she found a stray dog, coaxed it home, kept it in secret, went hungry to feed it her own lunches. But then her foster mother … well, let's just say, the dog was drowning, and Rachel triggered. Her power activated, the dog got big, it had never been trained, and it went after the foster family. People got hurt. Killed."

"Oh god." Taylor's hands were clenching tightly. "I've been seeing her all wrong. She … she's like me, in a way."

Amy felt her head nod, her hand reach out to rest on Taylor's forearm. Taylor glanced up at her, wary.

"Your arm," Amy's voice observed. "Where her dog bit it. Still sore?"

Taylor blinked. "How did -" She cut herself off. "You _said_ you knew stuff I thought no-one knew."

"I did," Amy heard herself confirm. She didn't try to say anything for herself; her head was whirling over what she'd just heard herself say, about two of the villains she had just been talking to.

"Oh, uh, yeah, still a bit sore," Taylor admitted. "But it's fine." She took a deep breath. "How about the other bit? Who's due to kill Alexandria?"

Amy took a deep breath. "Okay, first off? Me telling you this makes it a whole lot less likely to happen. Which is probably a good thing. But second? What I said earlier, about an open mind? Goes twice as much for this one."

"All right," Taylor agreed, her voice steady. "I can do that. I'm listening. I won't judge."

Amy nodded, but her passenger did not speak through her. She could feel his mind racing, even though she couldn't see the shape of the thoughts themselves.

_Are you trying to figure out how to break it to her? Which of her friends is going to murder Alexandria?_

_**Kind of. This is going to be a real tough one.**_

_If you tell me who, I can maybe offer advice?_

A mental shake of the head. _**Sorry. I'm going to have to … hmm.**_

"Taylor." Her voice was quiet, almost contemplative. "Let me ask you a question. Hypothetically."

Taylor nodded warily. "Okay."

"Let's say, hypothetically speaking, you're in the place of the person who's going to kill Alexandria."

Even more warily, Taylor nodded again. "All right."

"Now, you don't want to do it. Who does? Seriously, Alexandria's a hero. Or at least, you're used to seeing her as a hero. But right now, she's threatening to capture your friends, one by one, unless you surrender to her. She's already grabbed a couple. And the last one she brought in, in a body bag. And you're fairly sure that it's Brian."

Taylor's face had paled again, and her hands were clenched. "Oh god."

Amy's head nodded. "Yeah. So, hypothetically speaking, if you wanted to prevent her from killing the rest of your friends, including Lisa, and killing her was the only way to do it, would you?"

Taylor's head was lowered, but her knuckles were white. "God help me." Her voice was barely audible.

Amy's arm went out, and her hand rested on Taylor's shoulder for a moment. "If you really _want_ to know who kills Alexandria, I can tell you. But you don't have to know, not really. The circumstances, yeah. The culprit, not so much, yeah?"

There was a long, long pause, then Taylor raised her head. "No," she managed. "No. I don't."

"And anyway," Amy heard herself add briskly, "because I've told you this, I doubt very much that it'll ever happen. So cheer up. Bullet dodged."

Taylor blinked. " … right."

_So who does kill Alexandria?_

_**Given that it's never likely to happen now, does it matter?**_

Amy paused; there was a tone in his mental voice … _It's Taylor, isn't it?_

_**One more time. Does it really matter?**_

She looked at Taylor. The girl did not look like a murderer to her. _No. I guess not._

Taylor sniffled and pulled out a tissue, to wipe her nose. "So. What else do you have to tell me?"

Amy's head tilted slightly. "Did you have any more questions?"

"You said that you know stuff about me that I don't know about myself. What is it?"

Amy felt herself smile. "Good question. Several things, in fact. One of which is that you're becoming less and less likely to change sides back to being a hero, at this stage. Lisa is a good friend, you're developing feelings for Brian, which he's too focused to return, and Armsmaster is still a dick."

Startled, Taylor let out a giggle. "Yes, he is, isn't he? But Brian … " Her expression became lost. "I … he … "

"He's fixated on making a proper home for his little sister," Amy heard herself explain. "Besides, you're two years younger than him; he's growing to see you more as a sister than as a potential love interest." A shrug. "Sorry."

"Okay, fine," she replied, her voice perhaps harsher than Amy thought she intended it to be. "That'll just make it easier to break free. I know who their boss is now. I can turn them in."

Amy's head shook. "Probably not a good idea," her voice cautioned Taylor. "If you try to inform the PRT about Coil, they _will_ stuff it up. Taking him out requires immediate action, and the PRT is a bureaucracy. They never do anything fast. And that's _if_ they take you seriously. Worst case, Lisa is killed or enslaved, and the Undersiders with her."

Taylor's head hit the backrest with a soft _thump._ "Fuck."

"On the other hand, I can offer you something we _can _act on," Amy heard herself continue brightly. "Something that will improve your life measurably."

Taylor glanced at her sharply. "What?"

Amy felt herself smile. "What if I said I could stop the bullying? Flat, dead, over and done?"

Silence fell between them; Taylor's eyes bored into Amy's. She had never been on the receiving end of such an intense stare before.

"You can do that." It was not a question.

_Wait, you can __**do**__ that?_

His tone was amused. **We**_** can do that. If you're willing.**_

"Well," her voice responded to Taylor, "given that I know who and why, and Panacea _is_ a well-known hero, I'm thinking if I walked into Winslow tomorrow morning, and had a word with Principal Blackwell about Emma Barnes, Madison Clements, and … " A pause, inviting.

"Sophia Hess," Taylor completed the statement, biting the words off.

_Wait, what? Sophia Hess? I know that name. That's …_

_**Oh yeah. That's Shadow Stalker.**_ There was grim satisfaction in his voice.

_Wait, Taylor's being bullied by a __**Ward**__?_

_**Since before she was a Ward, but yeah. That's the gist.**_

_Oh shit, that's so wrong._

"Exactly and precisely," Amy heard herself say; she wasn't sure if he was responding to Taylor or herself, or both. "If I told Blackwell that those three were bullying you, and that I wanted something done about it _now _… "

"But would they do anything?" protested Taylor. "Would they even _listen_ to you?"

"I'll let Amy answer that one." Amy felt the control over her body relax and withdraw. _**Over to you.**_

_What? What do I say?_

_**What would you say in a situation like this?**_

She took a deep breath. "Yeah, they would. Especially if I brought along Glory Girl. You know, my sister?" She grinned at Taylor. "I tell her about this, and I guarantee she will go to _town_ on this Blackwell person. She's got a thing about people hurting those weaker than them. Also, she loves a good media spectacle."

Taylor grimaced. "But … how are you going to explain why superheroes are getting involved anyway? It's likely to make people look closely at me. I don't want to be outed for this."

Amy shook her head. "No, you won't. Because there's another cape involved. And this will mean that Blackwell will want to keep it as quiet as possible."

"What, _Blackwell's_ a cape?" Taylor shook her head violently. "I can't see that."

Amy chuckled. "No. She's not." _Is she?_

_**Nope. Carry on, you're doing fine.**_

_Thanks. _"But if I tell her that one of her students, who she _knows_ is a cape_, _is bullying someone, she's not going to want that to get out."

Taylor stared at Amy. " … what?"

_Should I tell her again?_

A grin. _**No. Let her sort it out in her own mind.**_

Amy felt a sudden doubt. _Should we really out Shadow Stalker to her, in this way? Taylor might decide to take drastic action._

_**She won't.**_

_How do you know?_

_**Because she didn't, the last two times that she did find out.**_

_That's very confusing, when you talk like that, you know._

A grin. _**I know. **_The grin faded. _**And besides, Shadow Stalker needs to be shut down, hard.**_

_Okay, I can get that. Bullying is -_

Taylor spoke, interrupting her train of thought. "So what you're saying is, either Emma, Madison or Sophia is a cape."

Amy nodded. "Yes. Exactly."

"Are you going to make me guess?"

"No." Amy took a deep breath. "It's Sophia."

"Sophia?" repeated Taylor. "Sophia _Hess? She's_ the cape?"

Amy glanced around. No-one was paying attention to them. "Keep it down," she suggested anyway. "But yes, that's what Security tells me."

Taylor ran her hands through her hair, disarranging it thoroughly. She didn't seem to notice, or care. "Shit. _Shit. _Who is she? Which cape?" Without waiting for an answer, she moved on. "Is she a Ward?"

"Uh, yes," Amy answered.

Taylor's eyes snapped into focus. "Shadow Stalker," she whispered. "She's _Shadow Stalker."_

Amy nodded. "Yes," she agreed. "But you've got to _listen."_

The sharp tone in her voice seemed to get Taylor's attention. "What?"

"We don't just go in looking for trouble," Amy urged her. "You shelve it, for the evening. Tomorrow, we go to the school. I'll back you up. I'll get Vicky to come along too. She'll enjoy the chance to yell at someone. We confront Blackwell."

_**Tell her to bring the pages.**_

_Pages?_

_**She'll know what I mean. The ones she's been working on.**_

Taylor was looking at her; she realised that she had stopped talking. "Uh, he says to bring the pages. The ones you've been working on."

There was a light in Taylor's eyes now, one that had been absent before. "Oh, you can bet I'll bring the pages." She paused. "Did you know that she's carrying lethal arrows?"

Amy blinked. "I … no, I didn't know that. Isn't that kind of against the rules?"

"Oh yeah," Taylor replied. "Totally against her probation."

Amy held up her hand. "Wait a second." _Probation? We didn't cover this._

_**Because we didn't get to it. Shadow Stalker used to be a vigilante, right? Joined the Wards?**_

_Uh, yes?_

_**Yeah. What they don't tell you is that she nearly killed someone. Nailed him to a wall. So it was a choice between juvey and the Wards. And guess who took her side in that case.**_

_I have no idea._

_**Ask Taylor what Emma's dad does for a living.**_

Taylor grinned as Amy focused on her. "So, he fill you in, did he?"

"Uh, some of it, I guess," Amy admitted. "He wanted me to ask you what Emma's dad does for a living."

"Mr Barnes?" Taylor asked. "He's a divorce lawyer. Why?"

"Ah," Amy replied. "He's the one who represented Sophia in her hearing, to see if she'd go to juvey or not."

Taylor's jaw dropped open. "Wait, so he _knew?_ He _knows?"_

"About her being a cape, probably?" hedged Amy. _A little help?_

_**Yeah, he knows. About the bullying, probably not. But he's also likely to threaten legal action if you try to nail anything on Emma.**_

_Oh. Oh, I see._ Aloud, she continued. "Yeah, he knows about her being a cape, but not about the rest of it. But Security says that he's likely to pull out all the stops to protect his daughter if we make accusations against her."

"Oh god." Taylor leaned back against the seat. "Him and Dad have been friends like forever." She looked hopefully at Amy. "Would that … ?"

_**Not in this case.**_

"I just got told, not in this case." She shrugged. "Well, it probably won't matter anyway. Because you know who _my_ mom is."

_Oh shit. After the scene we had earlier …_

_**So tell Vicky, and she can get your mom in on it.**_

_You're altogether too good at knowing which buttons to press, did you know that?_

_**Sorry, did you want me to be polite and ineffective, or actually get this shit sorted?**_

Amy sighed internally. _Point taken._

Taylor was looking curiously at Amy. _"Would_ your mom get involved?"

"Not sure." Amy shrugged.

_**You do know that Emma's dad works at the same firm as Carol does.**_

_Oh wait, does she?_

_**Sure. Alan Barnes.**_

… _yeah, I remember the name now. Huh._

She blinked. "Actually, I've just been reminded of something else. Emma's dad works at the same firm that Carol – Mom – does."

"Oh, okay," Taylor replied cautiously. "Is this a good thing or a bad thing?"

Amy grinned. "Well, if I can get Vicky to talk to her, and convince her in the matter, she might just step in and tell him to back off on any legal action."

Taylor took a deep breath. "That … would be good, I think." She glanced at Amy. "Do you think you'll be able to talk to your sister about all this, without outing me, that is?"

"Trust me," Amy told her with a roll of the eyes, "Vicky doesn't see anything that Vicky's not interested in seeing. She's very self-centred that way."

Taylor nodded. "Huh. Okay, cool. Should I bring Dad to school as well?"

_Should she?_

_**Hm. To be honest, I'm not sure. On the one hand, it might do well to turn up in force; on the other, that will slow things down, as they get their parents in as well.**_

_I could ask Carol her legal opinion on it._

_**Might help. Oh, just one thing. The 'social worker' who's going to be turning up to represent Sophia? That's her PRT handler. Just so you know.**_

Amy blinked. _Wow. Okay. Good to know._ Aloud, she went on. "Tell you what; I'll talk to Mom about it. See what she says."

"Yeah," agreed Taylor. "Might be a good idea." She smiled at Amy. "You know, when we first met, I wasn't at all sure that we were going to be getting along."

Amy snorted. "You put three poisonous spiders on me, and I hit you on the head with a fire extinguisher. The basis of a lifetime friendship."

"Which reminds me," Taylor observed. "What did you do to the spiders, anyway?"

"Oh, to screw up your control over them?" Amy shrugged. "I could see the parts of their brains that were sending back feedback, so I turned it from a tight, clean signal to one with as much garbage as possible."

"Well, it worked," Taylor admitted ruefully. "I could barely concentrate. You really did a number on me." She paused. "But what happened to the rest of them? Once I lost fine control, hell, I had no idea where they even were. They could've been biting everyone in the room, and I wouldn't have known."

Amy grinned. "Oh, uh, I found them on the people, paralysed them and left them sending back the same signal that they'd been sending when I touched them. Then I sent everyone upstairs while I tried to deal with you."

"Huh." Taylor blinked. "Wow, that nearly worked, too. It _did _work, right up until you clocked me with the extinguisher."

"Yeah, about that," Amy commented. "How's your head? I hit you pretty hard."

"Still sore," Taylor admitted. "How's yours?"

"Probably more sore," Amy confessed. "But I can do something about yours, if you want."

"I – uh - " Taylor hesitated.

Amy sighed. "If you're worrying about the threats I made back in the bank, don't be. I've learned a lot over the last few hours. Security's told me so much … I'm still getting my head around it all."

Taylor looked at her for a long moment. Then she nodded. "Okay."

Amy reached out and took her hand; Taylor did not stop her.

_Should I heal her?_

_**Up to you. But it's a good thing. You and Taylor could be good friends.**_

_Not -_

He chuckled. _**No, not **_**that****_ kind of 'good friends'. She's straight, and you're … what you are. Just … friends. There's a synergy you two could reach with your powers; she controls bugs, and you can make new bugs._**

Amy began the process of fixing the damage. Taylor had sustained a very mild concussion, but nothing that would affect her. The bruising and swelling was also relatively mild, but she brought that down to nothing. She also noted the bite-marks on Taylor's arm, probably from Rachel's dogs. It was the work of a moment to fix that as well.

_I'm not sure if I want to enable her as a villain._

_**With you helping her, she could be a seriously effective hero. And what did I say about paying too much attention to descriptors? She wants to do the right thing. And, you know, save Dinah Alcott.**_

_If I hadn't told her about it … what would have happened?_

His voice was serious. _**She would have found out, eventually. And she would have quit the Undersiders in protest, when they didn't back her up in wanting Dinah freed. Because Coil had too tight a grasp on them, by then. And even Lisa didn't get the full implications.**_

_What happened in the end?_

**_Oh, she rejoined them, and they did end up freeing Dinah, and killing Coil. But that caused a whole other set of problems. Which is why I want to bring him down early._**

_Oh. Okay._

She let go Taylor's hand. "That should do it."

Taylor reached up and gingerly felt her head. "Huh. Doesn't hurt any more." More confidently, she touched her forearm. "And you fixed that too?"

Amy nodded. "One's as easy as the other."

"Well, thanks." Taylor smiled. "I appreciate it." She looked out the window of the bus. "Oh, this is my stop. So, this evening?"

"I'll be ready." Unbidden, Amy's hand came up, formed a fist.

Taylor blinked at it, then shrugged and bumped it with her own fist. "See you then."

"See you, Taylor." She watched Taylor get up and shoulder her bag, then make her way off the bus. As the bus pulled away from the curb again, she could see the tall, lanky figure making her way down the street.

_What was that about?_

_**Oh, it's a thing I did with her, last time. Seemed appropriate.**_

_Huh. Okay. So, you're serious about making new types of bugs for her, huh?_

_**Absolutely. It'll make life so much easier for both of you.**_

_Okay, I'll think about it. Got any ideas?_

He chuckled. _**Many.**_

_Okay, let's hear them._

As he began to speak, Amy leaned back to enjoy the bus ride.

Today had been a very interesting day, and it wasn't over yet.

* * *

End of Part Seven


	8. Chapter 8

**I, Panacea**

* * *

Part Eight: Facing the Music

* * *

Amy mulled over the descriptions of the types of bugs that Michael had suggested to her.

_I could make these?_

_**You could definitely make these. I've seen you do it.**_

_When you say 'me' …_

… _**I mean the previous version of you, yes. But it's still you. Still able to do it.**_

_I … still not sure if I should. After all, she's a villain._

His voice was very dry. _**In about the same way that Sophia Hess is a hero.**_

That jolted her. _I'll accept it when you say that Shadow Stalker's a bully, sure, but -_

_**She's also repeatedly attempted to murder Grue.**_

_You're joking._

_**Nope. His powers interfere with hers, so she's decided that he needs to die. She uses lethal arrows at every chance, to try to kill him. Not arrest, not capture. Kill.**_

Amy took a deep breath. _You're actually serious about this. This is so against the unwritten rules._

Silently, he made a rude noise. _**Like she cares about those. Next time you get a chance, do a body read on him. He has a scar on his stomach from a through-and-through wound. Shadow Stalker shot him there with a lethal arrow, **_**after**_** she joined the Wards.**_

_Fuck. _Amy rarely swore; this was an indication of how shaken she was. _Has she ever actually killed anyone?_

_**At least one that I know of, but that was basically an accident. Possibly more. There was the guy she nearly killed, the one that got her into the Wards. And then there's the people she's let it happen to, because they were too scared to fight back -**_

_No, no, wait, what? Shadow Stalker?_

He sighed. _**Yeah, see, her personal philosophy is that the strong survive, and the weak don't deserve to. If you're being attacked, mugged, raped, whatever, if you're too scared to fight back, then she doesn't stop them. She just watches, then presumably comes in afterward and kicks their asses. But unless you prove you're willing to fight back, she won't lift a finger to help you while it's happening.**_

Amy shook her head, just a little, not wanting to get anyone's attention. _That's wrong on so many levels._

_**Well, yeah.**_ His tone was almost matter of fact. _**She also caused Taylor's trigger event.**_

Amy had thought she couldn't be shocked any more. _Do I want to know?_

_**Probably not.**_ His tone was contemplative. _**I'll just hit the high points. You know about the bullying.**_

_Yes, I recall._ Amy's tone was cautious. She could not imagine any act of bullying so egregious that it would trigger powers in someone.

_**Okay. January third. Her locker had been 'somehow' filled with the contents of the special bins found in the girls' bathrooms, over the holidays. With me so far?**_

Unfortunately, she was. _Did Sophia do that?_

His tone was almost cheerful. _**Easiest way, isn't it? So, she smells the smell. Opens the locker. Goes to toss her cookies. Sophia grabs her by the hair and shoves her in the locker. Locks her in. Leaves her there. She doesn't get let out until the janitor gets told, after an hour or more.**_

Amy's eyes went wide, and she put a hand over her own mouth. _Oh my fucking God. That's a trigger event, right there._

_**Sure as hell was. First **_**and**_** second triggers, one after the other.**_

_Oh god._ Amy was no expert, but she knew about both types of triggers, and the sort of stimuli needed for each one._ And Shadow Stalker did that?_

_**Signs point to 'yes'.**_

_Oh god. Oh my god. And I thought the Wards were so nice._

He sighed again. _**Most of them are. Kid Win loves being a Tinker, but he doesn't know what his specialty is yet. Clockblocker is a smartarse, but his dad's got leukaemia. He's gonna ask Vicky to ask you about helping him, sometime in late May, after -**_ He cut himself off.

_After what?_

_**After something else happens. Right now, not a huge concern. But yeah, Clockblocker. Not a bad kid. Vista, she's good at what she does. More experience than most. Prefers her hero life over civilian life. Her parents are on the outs with each other. Browbeat's a little on the cold side, but that's just the way he is. Aegis and Gallant are good people, too. The only really bad apple in the bunch is Shadow Stalker.**_

Amy felt relief that her judgement had been not found totally wanting. _So she's an isolated case, then?_

_**Not so much,**_he told her. _**Taylor went to Armsmaster before the bank robbery. Her intention was always to infiltrate, to be a mole. She asked him to give her an assurance that if it went wrong, if they were captured, she wouldn't go to jail. This is after she let him take credit for Lung.**_

Amy had a feel for the way this was going. _He said no?_

_**Got it in one. Called her a stupid girl. So then she stuck with it, continued to gather information. If things go as they probably will, in a while there'll be more clashes with the PRT and Protectorate, which the Undersiders will win, mostly because Taylor's a friggin' tactical genius when it comes to her bugs.**_

_Oh boy._

_**So, anyway, during the next Endbringer battle, Armsmaster sets it up so she'll be killed. Only, she isn't. He nearly dies, but she saves his life. And then she takes on Leviathan, hand to hand, more or less.**_

_Holy shit. She takes on fucking **Leviathan**?_

_**Well, she shoves Armsmaster's halberd up Leviathan's arse, and gets her back broken for her trouble, and she nearly dies, but yeah.**_

Amy was nearly lost for words. _Jesus Christ._

He chuckled. _**Basically, yeah. That's when she accidentally finds out who Shadow Stalker is. And then, because she refuses to unmask in return, they're all threatening her with the Birdcage. When Lisa more or less blackmails them into pulling their heads in, Armsmaster turns around and outs her to the Undersiders.**_

_Outs her?_

_**Tells them that she only joined in order to betray them.**_

_Oh, that's just … wow. He **is** a dick._

_**Yyyup.**_

When she next spoke, she was more contemplative. _I can see why she wouldn't unmask. If Sophia's got it in for her that badly, if she knew who she was under the mask …_

_**Correct. In fact, afterward, Sophia goes hunting Skitter, with the express purpose of killing her. Holds her down and tries to cut her throat.**_

_Tries?_

_**Spider silk is pretty well knife proof, it seems.**_

_Oh. Well._ She tried to haul her mind back on track._ So, all this has yet to happen?_

_**It might not happen. A lot of it won't now, given that you've reached out to the Undersiders, and that Taylor knows what she knows, and what you and Vicky are going to do tomorrow at Winslow.**_

_Because of you._

_**Yeah. And hopefully you'll be willing to help me make a lot more changes. Help people out, save the world, that sort of thing.**_

Amy blinked. _I … wow. Save the world?_

_**Not all at once,**_ he assured her. _**One step at a time. But will you give it a try?**_

She drew a deep breath. _I … guess I can, at that._

He smiled. _**Excellent. Isn't this your stop?**_

_Oh. Oh, wow, it is too._ She scrambled up and out of the seat, and only just made it off the bus before the doors closed.

* * *

The house loomed large before Amy. She took a deep breath before starting up the path to the front door.

_I don't suppose you have any advice for getting through the next half hour?_

His tone was grimly amused. _**I did suggest asking for a place to stay, with the Undersiders.**_

_You did. Maybe I should have done that._

_**Or you could stay with Taylor and her dad. They're good people.**_

_I – what?_ She was moderately startled. _Would that even work?_

_**Did last time. You and Taylor ended up great friends.**_

_I mean, would that even work, this time?_

_**Hm.**_ He thought about it. _**Maybe we can look into it, tomorrow. But right now, maybe you should open the door.**_ Amusement tinged his voice. _**Unless you plan on sleeping on the lawn tonight.**_

She blinked, realising that she was standing on the front step, staring at the door. Fishing out her keys, she unlocked the door, and let herself in.

The first voice she heard was Vicky's. "Amy! You're back!"

This was followed by the appearance of her sister, wearing a robe over pyjamas, as she ambush-hugged Amy, and held her tight. "I've been so _worried_ about you!"

Amy patted Vicky's back; she was going to go for a hug, but her hands instead worked to extricate her from the embrace. "I'm okay, Vicky, really," she heard her voice say. "Just a bit tired, all right?"

_What the hell are you doing? Why can't I hug my sister?_

_**Because she's in her pyjamas, and I'm not hugging a sixteen year old girl in her pyjamas if I can possibly help it. And yes, I saw what you were thinking when you went to hug her. We are **_**not_ going there._**

_You said you weren't going to take over my body without my permission. You **lied** to me!_

A sigh of resignation. _**Yeah, I promised you that, didn't I. **_She felt control return. _**Just remember what I said. Bad things happen if you keep going down this path.**_

_Wait, you didn't tell me anything about that!_

**_I didn't? Fuck, I didn't. I'm getting my timelines mixed up. Look, if you keep thinking that you and Vicky have a chance, then bad things happen. She's not interested. Barring pretty extreme circumstances, she never will be interested._**

Vicky was eyeing her. "Amy, are you okay? You kind of zoned for a moment there."

Amy nodded. "Yeah … things have been happening. I've kind of got a lot to think about." She put her arms around Vicky, and felt her sister returning the hug. But she didn't make it as deep, or as long, as she could have.

_I'm going to need more explanation than that. A lot more._

_**You probably won't thank me for it.**_

_I'll take that chance._

Carol was the next to appear. "Amy, where have you been?" Her voice was sharp and disapproving. "Your father and I need to talk to you."

Amy rolled her eyes. "You mean, you need to talk _at_ me, and Mark will sit there and nod his head occasionally."

Vicky stared at her. Carol's jaw dropped. Even Michael seemed to be taken aback. _**Ouch.**_

To give her credit, her foster mother recovered quickly. "What's gotten into you? You will _not_ speak to me like that."

Amy looked her in the eye. "Tell me that's not exactly how it's going to go down."

"Amy _Dallon!"_ snapped Carol. "You do not get to speak to us like you did earlier, then storm out of the house, and come back with more … more … "

"Backchat?" suggested Amy, feeling as though she was riding the crest of a wave. She knew she was going to crash, and crash hard, really soon, but right now she was flying. "Insolence? _Truth?"_

"Amy!" protested Vicky. "Don't talk to Mom like that. She's your mother too, you know."

Amy snorted. "In name only. And my name's not Amy Dallon. It's Amelia Claire Lavere. We may as well use it, from now on. Seeing that I know the truth."

Carol shook her head. "I always knew this day would come," she observed, more to herself than to anyone else. "I just didn't think it would come this soon."

Vicky frowned at her. "What day? And who's Amelia Claire Lavere?"

"I am," Amy told her. "This may come as a surprise to you, but Tattletale, back in the bank? She was telling the truth. I'm a supervillain's daughter."

"Yeah, I know," Vicky replied, surprising her slightly. "Mom told me. Marquis."

"Wow, fucking _thanks, _Carol," Amy responded. "You tell _Vicky_, but you can't be bothered telling _me?"_

Carol opened her mouth to reply, but Vicky got there first. "This _afternoon,"_ she added hastily. "She told me this afternoon, after you left."

Taken aback, Amy blinked. "Oh. Okay then."

"I only did it so that Victoria would be fully informed once you returned," Carol informed her tartly. "Though where you got that name from is beyond me. It's only written down in three places that I know of, and you don't have access to any of them."

Amy let a smile curl her lips. She imagined that it might look a little like Tattletale's know-it-all smile. "Let's just say, I have access to information sources that you don't know about."

Carol's eyes narrowed. "You've been talking to villains."

Amy's eyes widened. _How the hell does she know about that?_

Michael seemed equally surprised. _**I have no idea.**_

"Villains?" Amy squeaked, through a suddenly-constricted throat.

"_His_ old allies," Carol clarified bitterly. "They finally contacted you, didn't they? Looking to see if you'll take up where your father left off?"

There was a long moment as the realisation soaked into Amy's brain. Then she burst out laughing. Looking around, she found a chair and sat down, still chuckling.

"This is no laughing matter," Carol told her severely. "If Marquis' old organisation -"

Amy shook her head, letting the occasional snicker escape. "No, Carol. I haven't been contacted by any of Marquis' crew. I wouldn't even know who they are. I don't think they even exist any more. Anyway, I'm not about to become a supervillain. That's not in my life plan."

_**Unless, you know, you join the Undersiders.**_

_Shut up. That's different, and you know it._

Vicky knelt beside her. "Then what _is_ going on, Amy? Something's different, and you're scaring me."

Amy took a deep breath. "Can we go into the living room? I think we're all going to need to be sitting down for this."

* * *

They sat on the two sofas, on either side of the coffee table, facing one another. Carol sat on one sofa, with Mark beside her, with Amy opposite. Vicky went to sit beside her mother, visibly changed her mind, and sat beside Amy, although she maintained a certain distance.

_**Well, at least it's not three to one. How are you going to play this?**_

Amy's internal voice was a lot less sure than her outward facade. _By ear, I guess. Any help?_

**_When and if I can._**

_Thanks._

Carol opened the running, her voice harsh. "We're all here. Care to explain your actions?"

Amy was about to answer, when Michael broke in. _**Make Mark ask the questions.**_

_What?_

**_Tell her you'll only talk to Mark, not her. That brings him into this, and slows her down._**

_Oh. Yeah. Okay._

Amy took a deep breath. "Carol … you're a _lawyer._ You've got experience in tearing people apart on the witness stand. I'm not going to answer your questions." She looked at her foster father. "But I'll answer them from _you."_

Mark, who had been staring into the distance, blinked and roused himself. "Hmm, what?"

"Don't be ridiculous!" snapped Carol.

Amy raised an eyebrow. "So Mark doesn't have equal say with you?" It was true; she knew it was true, and so did Carol. But they both also knew that Carol wasn't about to admit it.

Her foster mother growled deep in her throat and turned to Mark. "Very well, dear. Ask her."

Mark looked mildly at Amy, and thought for a moment. "Sweetie, you were a bit rude to your mother, earlier. Maybe you should apologise to her."

Amy nodded. "I'm sorry for being rude to you, Carol. I apologise." Her voice was contrite, but inside, she was grinning broadly. _Okay, that's just genius._

**_Nope, just knowing how to rig the game._**

"Not _that!" _Carol snapped. "Tell her to explain her actions!"

Mark sighed. "Maybe you're being just a little harsh on her?"

Carol shook her head. "Mark, we need to know. So please, ask her."

Mark turned to look at Amy. "Honey, your mother wants to know why you acted like you did, earlier."

She smiled sweetly at him. "Okay, seeing as you asked so politely." She looked around at the three of them. "I've discovered some things about myself today. About myself and about some other stuff. My name is Amelia Claire Lavere. I'm the daughter of a superviillain. Marquis, to be exact, but you all knew that."

She paused; Vicky seemed to be hanging on her every word. Mark was gazing at her benignly. Only Carol made an impatient gesture. "Get on with it," she muttered.

"You named me Amy Dallon," Amy went on, locking eyes with Carol. "But that's not how you treated me. You didn't treat me like your daughter. You treated me like Marquis' daughter. Like a supervillain, ready to slap me down at the first sign of danger, of walking down the wrong path. Didn't you?"

"Well, it's true," Carol snapped back. "You _are_ Marquis' daughter, and from all indications, his blood is coming out in you, just as I suspected it would."

Amy ignored her words and glanced significantly at Mark. He got the hint, and looked at his wife. "What do you want me to say, Carol?" he asked plaintively.

"Ask her where she found all this out," Carol replied, her eyes never leaving Amy. "Ask her who contacted her."

There was a long pause as Mark looked expectantly at Amy, and Amy returned the look. After a few moments, he seemed to realise that there was more expected of him. _Not a good day to skip your meds, huh, Dad?_

"Amy, your mother wants to know -"

She held up a finger. "Sorry, Mark, but I'm going to have to stop you right there. That's not true, and you know it. Carol isn't my mother, and you're not my father. I'm sorry to say it, but Carol's _never_ acted like my mother, and you've only been a father on occasion."

He paused, then nodded. "I suppose that's fair," he agreed.

Carol stared at him. "Mark!" she exclaimed.

He looked at her and shrugged. "What am I supposed to say, Carol? I might be depressed, but I'm not stupid. You've never treated her the same as you've treated Vicky."

"And what if I haven't?" she demanded. "Look at her, the way she's acting. After all we've done for her -" They devolved into a low-voiced argument.

Amy became aware of Vicky's gaze. "Amy, I've been an all right sister, haven't I?" she asked quietly.

Amy nodded. "Yes, Vicky. You have." She swallowed a lump in her throat. "But -"

"But what?"

"I'll, uh, tell you later." She looked back at Carol and Mark.

Her foster father cleared his throat. "Uh, Carol wants to know who told you this information. Where you found it out."

She looked him in the eye. "I'm sorry, but I can not and will not give you that information."

Mark grimaced. "She really wants to know." From the thunderous look on Carol's face, that was the understatement of the year.

Amy heard her blood roaring in her ears. She had never, not ever, defied Carol and Mark like this before. It was liberating. It was terrifying.

_Are you doing this?_

_**Nope. It's all you.**_

_I think I'm going to throw up._

_**If you do, aim at Carol.**_

She only just managed to stifle a wholly inappropriate giggle, and took a deep breath to settle herself. "And I really don't want to tell you. It wouldn't help the situation. In fact, telling you would only make it worse. Sorry."

Carol's eyes narrowed. "I'm going to have to insist."

"Uh, Amy," Mark responded. "She says -"

"I heard her," Amy replied. "But my name is _Amelia Claire Lavere_, and I'd really prefer you used it. And I don't care how much she insists, I'm not going to tell either of you where I learned my information. Because, in legal terms, that information is not germane to this case. Now, do you have any _other_ questions you want to ask me?"

Carol's expression became more forbidding. "If you're not more forthcoming, young lady, penalties _will_ be in order. Grounding, for a start."

Amy didn't reply; she just looked at Mark.

"Oh, uh," he began. "If you don't tell us where you got this information, you'll be grounded." He leaned forward, his expression pleading. "Don't make this hard on yourself, sweetie. We only want the best for you. Whoever told you this stuff might not have your best interests at heart."

_**Wow, good cop, bad cop. Took them long enough.**_

_Yeah, with Carol, it's usually bad cop, bad cop._

"Well, whoever it was told me stuff that I'm better off for knowing," Amy told Mark steadily. "And which you guys were keeping from me. So who's got my best interests at heart, again?"

Silence, while Carol regrouped. Amy could see her expression changing second by second as she thought furiously.

"Fine," she gritted at last. "What did this person tell you, exactly? He or she might have given you false information. We might need to clear that up. Any misconceptions."

Mark took up his cue. "Sweetie – Amelia," he corrected himself. He ignored the sharp glance that Carol shot him, and went on. "Did this person tell you anything else that's important? We might need to know."

She nodded to acknowledge his use of her name, then considered her reply. "I was told some other stuff, yes," she agreed cautiously. "But I believe it all to be true. And if you decide that it's false, and you act on it, you could cause problems."

"If you tell us, and it's important enough, we could help you with whatever it is," Mark urged.

She looked him in the eye. "And can you guarantee that Carol will accept whatever I say without question? Because some of it's some pretty way-out stuff."

"My job _is_ to question," gritted Carol.

"Which is a no," Amy confirmed. "Which means that I can't tell you a lot of the stuff that I learned."

Mark frowned. "Sweetie – _what_ stuff? _How_ did you learn it?"

Amy shook her head. "I can't tell you that. But I got it all from the same place that I got my name and who my father really is. And I believe, totally, in its accuracy."

_**Wow, thanks. I'm touched.**_

A fleeting smile. _You've been a lot more up front with me than they have. And you kept your promise, and gave me control back._

Carol compressed her lips. "I'm beginning to think that there's something more at play, here. Ever since you hit your head -"

Amy rolled her eyes. "You're acting like I was just clumsy or something. I was hit on the head by a supervillain and knocked out. _After_ she held a knife to my throat."

Mark frowned. "Why didn't you use your powers?"

"Full body costume, Dad," Vicky put in. "Armoured too, by the looks of it."

"Huh, wow," he replied. "That's the bug controller?"

Amy nodded. "They're calling her Skitter."

"Sounds creepy," he observed.

Vicky shook her head. "Oh, trust me. You have _no_ idea."

Amy snorted. "You think you had it bad? Clockblocker had bugs crawl in under his _eyelids."_

"Clockblocker?" asked Vicky, her brow wrinkling. "But he wears a full-face helmet -"

"Swapped with Aegis, to put them off guard," Amy informed her. "But I'm guessing someone figured it out."

"We're getting off track here," snapped Carol. "Amy, you've been acting strangely since this Skitter hit you and knocked you out. I suspect some sort of outside influence."

Vicky looked startled. "What, like a Master?"

"Seriously?" Amy snapped. "I get hit on the head, I learn some stuff, I act a bit differently because of what I learn, and all of a sudden it's Master/Stranger protocols? What are you gonna do? Lock me in my room until you find out what's going on? Because honestly, that shit isn't going to fly."

_**Well, to be honest, you **_**were _under a sort of Master influence for a bit there._**

_It wasn't a Master, it was you. Which makes it an inside influence, not an outside one._

_**Wow, semantics even. I love it.**_

_Oh, shush, you._

"Maybe the hit on the head jarred some memories loose," Mark theorised. "And you remembered things that you'd forgotten. Add some concussion in there, and bingo."

_**Should we pop that balloon, or let them think that's that for a while?**_

_I guess? I don't know._

"A concussion that causes delusions? We're going to need you to be checked out, in that case," decided Carol briskly. Her glance spoke volumes.

_**To make sure you don't become dangerous, right.**_

_Wow, you really know how to read Mom._

A grin. **_I've got thirty years on you in that regard._**

_What's your mom like?_

**_She's nice. You'd like her._**

She became aware that Carol and Mark were watching her expectantly. "What?"

"Uh, Carol has suggested that you get your head checked out, to see if the damage is more problematic than we first thought," Mark explained. "Are you all right with this?"

"And if I'm not," Amy noted, "you're likely to think that something more sinister is going on with me, right?" Her eyes cut sideways to Carol. "Whereas mom of the year, over there, _starts_ with that basic assumption."

_**Wow, ouch. Did you mean to actually say that out loud?**_

_Um, no, not really?_

Mark's tone hardened. "Amelia, please don't be impolite to your mo – to Carol. I'm doing my best to be fair, here. Could you please answer the question?"

_**You know, he really is.**_

_Okay, yeah, true. A lot more fair than she is._

Amy nodded, conceding the point. "Okay, sure. I suppose it wouldn't be a bad idea to make sure I'm not bleeding into my brain or something." She took a breath. "And sorry, Carol. I didn't mean to be rude."

He smiled. "Good." A sideways glance at Carol. "Is that good enough for you, honey?"

The look on Carol's face stated that it really wasn't, but she nodded reluctantly. "Good enough for the time being," she conceded.

"I'll phone the doctor, to make an appointment for tomorrow after school," Mark decided, getting up. Carol got up also, muttering something about cooking dinner. They both exited the living room, leaving Amy and Vicky alone.

Vicky eyed her closely. "Are you really all right?" she asked solicitously.

Amy nodded. "Better than I have been for a while, actually," she assured her sister. "Oh, I'll go along and let the doctor look at me. But that's not what's causing this."

"Then what is?" asked Vicky, her expression curious.

For a moment, Amy considered telling her, then shook her head. "Sorry. You probably wouldn't believe me. Maybe later, when things are different."

"Man," Vicky observed, looking her up and down. "Mom wasn't wrong. You've changed. More self-confident. I think I like it."

Amy smiled. "Thanks. I think I like it, too."

_Now to go off and hide in a corner until I stop shaking._

_**Yeah. I know how that goes.**_

Spontaneously, Amy hugged Vicky. "Thanks," she murmured.

Vicky was surprised, but she hugged Amy back anyway. "Wow, okay. What for?"

"For supporting me," Amy told her. "For taking my side. For being my sister."

Vicky cheerfully tousled Amy's hair before letting her go. "Hey, what are sisters for?"

Amy smiled, but she was already thinking of what was going to happen later that night.

* * *

End of Part Eight


	9. Chapter 9

**I, Panacea**

* * *

Part Nine: Discoveries and Revelations

* * *

Dinner had been an awkward affair; Vicky had done her best to keep the conversation going, but between Mark's vagueness and Carol's less-than-thrilled demeanour, it had been hard going. Michael had stayed in the background, doing his best not to distract her. Amy appreciated it; she didn't need Carol and Mark having any _more_ doubts about her mental capacity.

And now, after all of it, Amy lay awake in the darkness. Waiting for everyone to go to bed, go to sleep, so that she could sneak out and meet the Undersiders.

* * *

She stirred, rolled over to check the bedside clock. It was after ten. _So how much longer?_

**_Not sure. Taylor's probably waiting till your parents go to sleep._**

_Oh, right._

There was a tap on her bedroom door. "Ames? You awake?"

**_Shit. Pretend to be asleep._**

_I can't. Vicky's my sister. _Aloud, she called out, "What's up, Vicky?"

**_Yeah, but you're lying on top of the covers, fully dressed. She's gonna know _****something's****_ up._**

_Oh. Shit. Right._

"I can't sleep. Can I come in, talk awhile?"

**_Tell her no._**

_And then she'll _**_really_**_ think there's something up._ Amy scrambled to pull the sheets over herself. "Sure, okay. Come on in."

The door opened, letting in soft light from the hallway; Vicky was silhouetted against it, wearing her robe over her pyjamas. Her brushed blonde hair made a gentle halo around her head.

For a mercy, she left the light off; she was of course familiar with Amy's bedroom, so she made her way straight to the side of the bed and sat down on it. Amy felt the mattress sag with her weight.

Momentarily, she wondered if Vicky's fearlessness at walking around in the dark stemmed from her immunity to stubbed toes and barked shins.

**_Heh. Probably._**

_Shush. _"What's the matter?"

Vicky sat with one leg up on the bed; she reached forward, patting with one hand.

**_What's she after?_**

_Oh. My hand. She holds my hand when we talk like this._

**_Oh god. Okay. Just push your sleeve up a bit, okay? So she doesn't realise._**

* * *

Following Michael's advice, Amy was wearing a dark long-sleeved pullover. She slid the sleeve up toward her elbow, then reached out from under the covers to grasp Vicky's hand; their fingers interlocked in the familiar pattern. With the skin contact came Vicky's body rhythms; her heart rate, her brainwaves, everything working in the interlocking pattern that people called 'life'.

"I haven't been hurt like that since I got my powers," Vicky began, as if continuing a conversation. "And I haven't seen _you_ hurt like that in a while, too."

Amy felt her own heart rate pick up a notch, at the skin contact.

**_Ahem._**

_I can't help it, okay? Now _**_shush_**_._

"We just got unlucky," Amy told her. "It happens. Tattletale figured out your weakness. She's good at figuring stuff out. But she didn't want to hurt you badly, or kill you."

"Seriously?" Vicky asked her. "Could've fooled me." Amy couldn't see her grimace – all she could see was a vague shape in the dimness – but she knew which muscles were tensing and which were relaxing, and she picked up the changes of brain chemistry which spelled out 'disgust'. "Those bugs were … well, 'creepy' was the nicest thing I could say about them. And what if I'd been allergic?"

"Well, you had me there," Amy replied reasonably. "If you were in distress, I would've healed you anyway, headache or no headache."

**_Would you really have? Even with me in the driver's seat?_**

_Of course. This is Vicky. If it came down to saving her life, yeah, I would've chanced it._

"Still, it was a pretty dick move," Vicky stated.

"She could have just shot you twice," Amy pointed out. "Or three or four times. I would've definitely have had to heal you on the spot then. If she didn't shoot to kill, that is."

"I guess," mumbled Glory Girl. "I just don't like feeling that vulnerable."

**_Welcome to the rest of the human race, kid._**

_That's a little bit mean, isn't it?_

**_Hey, she might just learn to be a better hero from this. See what it's like for the poor bastards who _****can't****_ bounce bullets._**

Amy squeezed her sister's hand. "You know, some of us feel like that all the time."

Vicky's brain chemistry shifted; Amy automatically read the change as 'contrition'. "Oh shit. I didn't mean it like _that."_

"That's okay, sis," Amy assured her. "I'm used to being the squishy one here." Her tone became contemplative. "I guess I really shouldn't have tried to play the hero."

"Well, _duh_," agreed Vicky, her demeanour becoming more cheerful. "Any course of action that ends you up with a knife at your throat is generally a _bad_ course of action."

"I don't think she really meant to hurt me," Amy pointed out before Michael could remind her.

"Ames, she had a _knife_ at your _throat," _Vicky reminded her, in slow and patient tones. "I really think she did."

"No, but I pulled away from her," Amy pointed out. "She had to let me go, or she really would have cut my throat. And she could've, really easily. But she didn't."

"It was still a huge fucking risk," Vicky told her. "Why did you do it?"

"That Tattletale girl," Amy told her. "She was talking about my dad, remember? Either you locked yourself in the vault or she told me something worse than even that."

"And you were willing to risk a cut throat for _that?"_ asked Vicky. "What the hell's worse than finding out that your dad's Marquis?"

Amy froze. _What do I say to that?_

**_Fuck. I have no idea. It never came up like this before._**

_Well, how _**_did_**_ it come up?_

**_Once, really badly. And once, after you'd been doing therapy for a while. That time came out a bit better._**

"Ames? What's up?"

_Therapy? Why was I taking therapy?_

**_Because I told you to._**

_And did it help?_

**_You were smiling a lot more, so I guess so._**

"I, uh, can we talk about this another time?" Amy asked, feeling trapped.

"When?" asked Vicky. "It's obviously a private thing, and I can't see you wanting to talk about it in front of Mom and Dad. You didn't talk to _them_ about it, so it's not something they know. And any other time we're out and about together. When's a better time than right now?"

_Shit._

**_No kidding. She's smarter than people think._**

_What am I gonna _**_do_**_?_

**_Well, outside of using your powers on your sister, which might be a _****little****_ extreme -_**

Amy was shocked at the very idea. _Well, no shit! I'd never do something like that to Vicky!_

**_\- your three options are to lie your head off, say nothing … or tell the truth. But if you take the last one, for fuck's sake, leave the aura out of it._**

_Why?_

**_No time to explain. Just _****trust****_ me on this one._**

_Okay, fine. _She took a deep breath. _I hate lying to her, and she's not gonna leave this alone._

**_Oh god. Good luck. Please don't fuck this up._**

_Thanks, I think._

"Ames?" asked Vicky. "Talk to me, please."

"Okay," Amy replied. "I'll tell you what's going on. But I don't think you're going to like it a whole lot."

Vicky shook her head; in the darkness, Amy could hear her hair swishing back and forth. There was a fond smile in her voice – and on her face – when she replied. "Seriously, Amy, the last time I was actually angry with you was when you messed up my fifth grade class presentation."

Amy rolled her eyes. "I _said_ I was sorry. I was trying to help."

Vicky chuckled. "I know. Which is why I forgave you about an hour later." Her free hand came out, smoothed Amy's hair back from her face. "So give. Whatever it is, we can deal."

Amy took another deep breath; the lingering feeling of Vicky's fingertips on her cheek was not helping her composure any. A mental image came to her; an older man, dressed in some sort of uniform, heavy set, bearded, crossing his arms and tapping his foot. She almost giggled, but calmed herself instead.

"Vicky … you know how you keep setting me up with boys, but I don't like any of them?"

Muscular contraction and relaxation told Amy that Vicky was rolling her eyes. "Yeah, picky much? We've still got that double date with -"

Amy shook her head, then recalled that Vicky couldn't see her. "No. I'm not going. Vicky, I don't like those boys. Any of them."

"But you haven't met this one -"

"Vicky." Amy tried again. "I don't like _boys._ I'm not _interested_ in them."

"Oh?" Vicky seemed vaguely puzzled. "Oh." That was a sound of realisation. _"Oh."_ And finally, the penny dropped. "Oh, you're _gay._ Why didn't you tell me? We could have sorted something out. I know a guy, his sister's your age, she's kind of interested in girls too -"

**_Okay, that's a start. _**Michael's voice was tense. **_Can we leave it there?_**

_I'd love to, but Vicky'll see through that bit. She'll want to know why it's such a huge secret. __**W**_**_ow, Panacea's gay. Big deal._**_ It 's not like people _**_care_**_ any more._

"No, Vicky," she pressed on. "I'm not interested in 'girls' either."

Puzzlement entered Vicky's voice. "But if you're not interested in boys, and you're not interested in girls, then what … ?"

There was a snort of amusement within her mind. **_Many options. Most of them illegal._**

_Shush._ Aloud, she went on, before her nerve could fail. "You."

There was a long, long silence. Amy could hear the chirping of night insects outside her window; there didn't seem to be any great concentration of them -

**\- ****_but Taylor could tell them not to chirp if she didn't want them to._**

_Michael, what if she hates me now? She hasn't said anything._

**_What do your powers say?_**

Amy was shocked; she had been so wrought up that she had totally tuned out what her powers were reporting via Vicky's body. This was the first time that had happened in … forever. She looked for anger, disgust, repulsion … and didn't find it.

"Ames." Vicky's brain showed a trace of confusion, then embarrassment, blending into understanding and then compassion. "How long … ?"

Amy sighed. "Ever since … " _Time to shade the truth just a little. _" … ever since I started developing, I guess. Started being able to feel that way. I mean, you're my best friend, I've always loved you, it's just that now I love you a little _more_ … "

"Amy." Vicky was shaking her head again. "We can't do this. We can never do this. I'm straight. And you're my _sister."_ Through the link, there was sorrow and regret.

"Adopted." Amy didn't even really mean to say the word out loud. "But yeah, I know. You're straight. It's not going to happen." She tried to keep the pain out of her voice, and did not totally succeed.

"_Shit." _Vicky's voice was filled with emotion; Amy felt, for the first time, loathing in her brain chemistry. _Oh god, I've made her hate me._

**_No. _**Michael's voice calmed her. **_It's not you. It's herself. She's upset with herself._**

_How do you know _**_that_**_?_

An impression of a grin. **_Life experience, kiddo. Talk to her._**

"Vicky … ?"

Her sister was crying silently; Amy could feel her tear ducts working. "So sorry, Amy. I am _so_ goddamn sorry. Every time I undressed in front of you, or hugged you or kissed you, I was sending you mixed messages. All this time, you must have thought I was the most godawful tease."

Amy had to chuckle. "You _are_ the most godawful tease. Wearing a short skirt, with pants underneath? As a flier?"

Vicky sniffled, but stopped crying. "You're making fun of me."

"No." Amy reconsidered. "Well, maybe just a little. But it's _all right."_ She squeezed Vicky's hand. "I've been carrying this load around for way too long. It's a relief to be able to share it, just a little bit."

"But you're still … attracted to me. In love with me, whatever."

Amy sighed. "Yeah. Still am."

"And every time I showed off my new underwear, or got changed in front of you, or we swapped out in the shower, you were checking me out, weren't you?"

A blush started creeping over Amy's cheeks. She was tempted to lie, but Michael's silent presence urged honesty. "I … yeah, I guess so."

Another eye-roll. "Figures." A pause. "Hey!"

Amy was a little startled. "Hey, what?"

"If you're holding my hand like this, you can read my whole body, yeah?"

"Yeah, of course." Amy frowned. "What are you getting at?"

"So you can see the shape of my body with your power. So you're kinda checking me out right now."

Amy had to chuckle. "Heh, no. My power doesn't give me a three-dimensional image of your body. It just tells me how it's working, down to the most minor detail. I'd need a whole _new_ set of kinks to find that sexy."

"Or you could be just, you know, lying. So I would keep holding your hand while you got a load of my bod." Vicky's tone was light, bantering.

Amy shook her head in the darkness. "Not lying. You deserve the truth about this."

"So you're not going to lie about this at all?" Amy detected mischief in her sister's brain, as well as her voice.

_Oh god, what have I gotten myself into?_

**_Not entirely sure. I'm just hoping she doesn't ask what I think she's going to ask._**

_What's that?_

**_Better you don't know. She's waiting for an answer._**

"I, uh, yeah. Total honesty, all the way." Amy waited for Vicky's reply.

It wasn't long in coming. "So," her sister murmured, "have you ever had, uh, _fantasies … ?" _As far as Amy could tell, she was asking the question from morbid curiosity, as opposed to actually reciprocating Amy's feelings.

**_Oh god, she asked it._**

_Fuck. I said I'd be honest._

**_I'm presuming you have._**

_Well, in my place, wouldn't _**_you_**_?_

**_I reserve the right to not self-incriminate._**

_Hah. And thank you for showing me how to answer._ She took a deep breath. "Vicky, if I answer one way, I'm going to be horribly embarrassed. If I answer the other way, you'll know I'm lying my ass off. So can we just accept that we both know what the answer is, and drop this subject? For all time?"

"Hm." Vicky seemed to be thinking this over. "Can I tease you again later?"

"Only if you catch me checking you out later."

A shrug that made the bed shake slightly. "Okay, deal. And I'll stop giving you mixed messages. Okay?"

"I … yeah, okay. I appreciate it." She paused. "You know, like sneaking into my room late at night and climbing into bed with me."

"I haven't done that for at least -"

"- two years, four months, one week and three days," Amy recited promptly. "After you got your costume and went out for the first time. You were so excited that you couldn't sleep, and you actually wore your costume to bed. _My_ bed, as it turned out."

"Wow." Amy could feel Vicky trying to look at her in the darkness, her eyes searching. "You remember that, then."

Amy felt herself blushing. "Vividly."

"Oh." Vicky seemed to be lost for words. "Well. I … uh, kinda forgot why I even came in here."

_Shit, I have too._

**_Talking about the bank robbery._**

_Oh, thanks._ "We were talking about the bank robbery."

"Oh, right. Yeah. Okay, I guess you're right. It wasn't as bad as it could've been. They could have hurt us a lot worse than they did. Though hitting you on the head was a bit risky. That could have killed you."

"Don't remind me," Amy retorted. "My head still hurts. Not badly," she added hastily. "Just, you know, bump-on-the-head hurt. You know what that's like. _You_ got a few bumps playing basketball."

"Nothing that knocked me out," Vicky pointed out.

Amy conceded the point. "But I'm not nauseous, I don't have double vision, none of the signs of concussion."

**_How about hearing voices in your head?_**

_Oh, shut up._

"Yeah, but I still worry about you, Ames. You know that."

"And I love you for it."

Amy didn't realise what she'd said for a moment, until Michael did a very realistic throat-clearing noise inside her mind. "Oh, uh, you know, appreciate," she added hastily. "The _other_ kind of love." She felt herself starting to blush, all over again.

"You know," Vicky observed, "I was looking forward to teasing you about this. But you're doing a better job than I ever could." She was amused, Amy could tell.

**_She's right. You are._**

"Oh, shut up," she muttered. _And that goes for you too._

**_Look on the bright side. She's not mad at you._**

"Okay, fine," Vicky replied, still sounding amused. "You've given me a lot to think about, so I'll be going to bed." She paused for a beat. "My _own_ bed, just so there's no misunderstanding."

"Night, Vicky." Amy let her sister's fingers go, and the awareness of Vicky's body vanished from her powers.

Vick got up and moved to the door, then paused. "So am I still flying you in to school in the morning, Ames?"

"Oh, uh, if you're fine with it?" returned Amy. "Knowing I've got feelings for you and all?" She cleared her throat. "How come you're so cool with this, anyway? I would've thought you'd be more upset about it."

Vicky snorted. "I'm kind of used to it. About ninety percent of the boys in Arcadia have 'feelings' for me, and more than a few of the girls. If that sort of thing squicked me out, I'd never leave my room. I mean, yeah, it's a bit of a surprise, finding out that _you've_ got the hots for me too, but it's not something I haven't had to deal with before. Just so long as you don't try to break up me and Dean – oh god." She paused. "So _that's_ what that was all about."

"What was?" Amy thought she knew, but asked anyway.

"We were talking about you awhile ago, and he got kind of evasive."

"Yeah," sighed Amy. "I ... I don't like him. The fact that he's with you. He more or less let me know that he knows about that, today."

"Shit. And you see us together all the time." Vicky's voice was that of someone undergoing a revelation, or seeing something in a new light.

"Yeah," Amy replied again. "Please don't tell him that you know? I don't want things to be even more awkward between us than they already are."

Vicky paused for a moment. "Okay, Ames. If that's what you want." She went to open the door.

Amy got up on one elbow, and spoke before she could think too hard about it. "Vicky? I'm sorry. To put this on you."

"Hey." Vicky's voice was warm and understanding. "This shit _happens,_ okay? You can't control who your body thinks it likes. We can work through this, now that we both know about it. You okay with that?"

Amy sighed. "Yeah, I'm good with it."

"Good," Vicky told her. "See you in the morning. Good talk, Ames." She opened the door, allowing the dim hall lighting to spill into the room momentarily, and slipped out. The door clicked shut behind her.

* * *

Amy lay back, letting out a long sigh. _Well, now I'm exhausted._

Michael echoed her sigh, silently. **_Yeah. That went off a hell of a lot better than it had any right to._**

_Okay, tell me._

**_Tell you what?_**

_About the time it went badly._

There was a pause. **_Do you really want to know? Because I'm not kidding when I say 'badly'._**

Amy swallowed, and steeled herself. _Yeah, I want to know. So I know what to avoid._

**_Okay, for a bit of context; New Wave had attended an Endbringer battle. Mark had brain damage. You hadn't fixed it, because you don't want people knowing you can do brains._**

_Oh god._

**_Carol was at you to try anyway; Vicky was upset with you because she knows you can do brains, but choose not to. But you were stuck between a rock and a hard place. Way too much stress on you._**

_If I fixed him, everyone would know. If I didn't … oh god._

**_Yeah. Then the Nine came to town. Bonesaw had a robo-spider inject acid into his brain. You had to fix him – right then, right there – or watch him die horribly._**

Amy was shocked. _But _**_why_**_?_

**_Because she wanted you to use your full potential. And join the Nine. To be her big sister._**

Her eyes wide, Amy started at the darkness. _Oh god. And she thought I was Nine material._

**_Well, she was wrong. But. You fixed Mark, and he drove her off._**

_I didn't really have a choice, did I?_

**_Not really, no. Not and stay sane. Bonesaw had you in a no-win situation._**

_So what happened then?_

**_Well, you'd just learned a little while previously that your dad was Marquis. There was a letter from him to Carol that you found. So that was on your mind too. You basically decided that you'd betrayed everyone by refusing to fix Mark earlier, so you grabbed some stuff and bolted._**

_But that's not the end of it, is it?_

**_No. Vicky found you._**

_What did I do?_

**_Okay, understand that you were at the end of your rope. Other bad stuff had happened. Gallant had died fighting Leviathan. You'd been just a little bit secretly glad, because that let you get closer to Vicky. You had the Mark thing, and the Marquis thing, and Carol wasn't letting up on you. When Vicky came to you, she asked you to go home._**

_And I refused._

**_Yeah. She wanted to hug you, and you told her to not touch you. Because you'd just broken your own rules, and it had been so easy._**

Amy could see where this was going. _And she did it anyway. Because Vicky. Because she trusts me not to use my powers on her._

**_Yeah. So you broke, right then. Because you _****wanted****_ so much for her to be with you. And you changed her brain, just a little. So she'd feel the same way about you as you do about her._**

_Fuck._

He didn't answer. She didn't wait for one.

_Fuck. No. No, I would not do that shit to Vicky._

**_Amy -_**

_No. No, fuck you. I _**_would not_**_ do that _**_fucking shit_**_ to my own _**_fucking sister._**_ I. Would. Not._

**_Amy -_**

_No, that's it. I'm done. I don't believe it. I wouldn't do it. No fucking way._

**_I believe you._**

… _what._

**_I believe you. You wouldn't do it._**

_But you just said -_

**_The Amy who did that is not the Amy that you are now. You're in a much better place. You've faced some of your issues, and you don't have the pressures on you that the other you did, in the other place and time. You, here and now, would not do it._**

His words, measured and reassuring, cut through her anger.

_So you're not telling me that I'm going to do it?_

**_Nope. In fact, all this stuff I'm telling you? It's so you _****don't****_ do it._**

… _oh. Uh, sorry._

**_For what?_**

_Yelling at you._

A snort of amusement. **_Heh. No worries. You want to hear how it ends, or will you take my word that it gets worse?_**

_I … I want to know, but not right now, okay? Maybe later?_

There was the suggestion of a hug. **_Sure. Any time._**

_Thanks._

**_For what?_**

_Walking me through this. Being there. Helping me._

**_It's what I'm here for, near as I can tell._**

_Huh?_

**_Helping you, and a lot of others, to avoid the shit that's coming down the line._**

**_That_**_ sounds ominous._

**_Oh, trust me, ominous is only the start._**

_But you can help us through it?_

**_I can only try. And I _****will****_ try. Every step of the way, I'll be with you._**

Amy didn't answer; she smiled, knowing that he felt it, and rolled over in bed.

* * *

**_Amy! AMY!_**

_Huh? What?_ Amy blinked her way awake. She was already standing up, with her shoes on. Half a dozen fireflies were orbiting her head.

**_Taylor's outside, with the others. Time to go._**

_Wow, was I asleep?_

**_Just a little bit. _**There was amusement in his voice.

_Were you sleepwalking me?_ Realisation shocked her fully awake. _Wait, you can control my body while I'm asleep?_

He sounded almost apologetic. **_It's more like, you sleep and I don't. I can already control your body while you're awake; I just don't lose that control when you go to sleep._**

She tried to control her reaction to that revelation. _That's got the potential for all sorts of creepiness._

**_I thought you'd already figured that out, when Regent tried to control your body._**

_I ... I guess. But I didn't think it applied when I was actually asleep. _She paused. _Wait, you don't _**_sleep_**_?_

**_Not as such, apparently. I sat you up first, to see if that would wake you, but it didn't. I could have slapped you awake, but I didn't think you would appreciate that._**

_No. I would not. Thanks, I guess._ She glanced at the clock. _Eleven thirty, wow._

**_Yeah, I thought they'd come earlier. Maybe your parents stayed awake later than normal._**

_Talking about me, probably._

**_Do you blame them? You put the cat among the pigeons, earlier. And really, I think it's a good thing._**

Softly treading over to the door, Amy turned the handle gently. As with the other times she had sneaked out to go to the hospital, it opened with barely a creak, barely a click. The fireflies had quit their circling, and had flown out the window.

_A good thing? How so?_

**_Well, for one thing, they'll stop taking you for granted. Stop looking at you in the same way._**

_Not sure if that's a good thing._

**_And what you had before was so great?_**

… _okay, you have a point._

So engrossed was she with the internal conversation that she didn't notice the door opening behind her. Not until, that is, Vicky spoke.

"Amy!" she whispered. "What are you _doing?"_

Amy glanced back at her guiltily. "I … I'm going down for a cup of water," she temporised. "Go back to bed."

Instead, Vicky left her room and followed Amy down the passageway. "That isn't your pyjamas," she murmured. "You're wearing _shoes._ Are you going to the hospital?"

_Oh. shit._

**_Crap on a stick._**

"Oh, uh -"

Vicky shook her head. "You're not going to the hospital. You'd be wearing your costume if you were." She leaned closer to Amy. "Where are you _going?"_

_What do I tell her?_

**_Don't look at _****me**_**. She's **_**your**_** sister. Way I see it, you've got three choices. Go back to bed, lie, or tell her the truth.**_

_Fuck._

**_And do it _****now****_, before she wakes up your parents._**

Amy made her decision, and drew a deep breath. "Okay … "

* * *

End of Part Nine


	10. Chapter 10

**I, Panacea**

* * *

Part Ten: Anger Management

* * *

"Okay … " began Amy, with the feeling of stepping through an open door into a darkened space, which may or may not be an open elevator shaft. "Vicky, I need you to keep a secret for me."

Vicky rolled her eyes. "Jeez, Ames, what _else_ are you gonna hang on me tonight?"

Amy inclined her head toward the stairs. "Come on, let's get downstairs before we wake up Carol and Mark. I'll tell you there. But you gotta _promise_ not to freak."

Vicky's eyebrows drew down in what Amy knew to be her 'worried' face. "Seriously, just saying that is kind of freaking me out already." But she followed on as Amy crept down the stairs.

When they reached the bottom of the steps, Amy turned to Vicky. "Okay. Now please, promise."

Vicky nodded in the darkness. "I promise. I won't freak."

Amy took a deep breath. "I'm going out to take down a supervillain."

There was a long moment of utter silence; Amy fancied that she could hear the house settling around them. Then Vicky spoke, her voice a harsh hiss.

"Amy, _geez!_ Come on! What the _hell_ do you think you're doing? Especially after what happened today!"

"Vicky!" Amy protested, in the same hushed tone. "I know what I'm doing. I'm not going alone. I'm going with some others."

Vicky blinked at her in the gloom. "What the fuck? Who's the supervillain? Who's going with you? And most importantly … "

She paused for effect.

"Why the fuck haven't you invited _me_ along?"

_What?_

**_Oh, shit. I should have realised. Vicky's gonna want in on this._**

_She's gonna go nuts when she realises who's coming with me._

**_So break it to her. Really gently. If you can._**

Amy breathed deeply again. "Vicky. Before I even let you in on this, you've got to promise that you won't do anything to screw the mission. _Anything._ At all. If you have a problem, talk to me before going off the rails." She hardened her tone as much as she could. "I mean it."

"Wow, geez, secrecy much, Ames?" asked Vicky.

Amy nodded her head vigorously. "Yes. Totally. And these are people you're not going to want to work with. But this mission _has_ to go through."

"Mission against _who?"_ asked Vicky.

She had to tell Vicky sooner or later. "You've heard of Coil, right?"

"Yeah, I've heard of him. Small-time crime boss. What's he done that's got you sneaking out in the middle of the night?"

Amy drew a deep breath. "Kidnapped the Mayor's niece. We're going to rescue her and take him down."

"Seriously?" Vicky seemed about to laugh, but she held back. "That's a _Capes of Our Lives_ plot if I ever heard one."

"Well, it's true. Her name's Dinah Alcott. But I don't have time to argue about it. Like I said, I'm working with some people that you're not going to enjoy associating with. So if you can't do it, can't suck it up, let me know and leave me to it. But with you or without you, I'm doing it."

Vicky's eyes were almost glowing with her intensity. "I'm in. I don't care if it's Clockblocker teamed up with Shielder. There's no way in _hell_ you get to pull a secret mission without me at your back."

"Okay. Just so long as you remember that you _promised,"_ Amy reminded her. She held up her hand, smallest finger crooked. Vicky hooked her own finger through it, completing the childish ritual.

"Pinky promise," she assured Amy. "So let's go meet the rest of the team."

Amy eyed her pyjamas. "Sure you're dressed for crimefighting?"

"Shit, hang on," Vicky muttered. "I'll just go and change."

"_Not_ your costume," Amy warned her. "Something dark."

"Gotcha. Back in a sec."

With a _whoosh_ of air, Vicky was up the stairs, leaving Amy alone in the dark. Her heart was racing; she knew that the next few moments were going to decide the events of the rest of the night. _Michael? How's she going to react?_

**_I have no idea. She's _****your****_ sister. How binding is that promise?_**

_She's never broken it before._

**_Good. Let's hope that holds. Or maybe we could make a break for it, get away before she realises we've gone._**

_No way in hell. She'd catch us before we got two blocks._

**_You're right. I wish you weren't, but you are._**

* * *

Moments later, Vicky returned, drifting silently down the stairs; now she was a ghostly presence in the dimness, wearing a long sleeved sweater as well as dark jeans, and her long blonde hair was even tucked up under some sort of cap. Amy felt the presence behind her eyes scanning her sister from head to toe, then she realised that Michael was just making sure that she didn't have anything bright on her.

_For a moment there, I thought you were checking her out._

**_Okay, young enough to be my daughter, all right? Also, not the time and place._**

Amy's reply held a tinge of mischief. _Aww, you're no fun._

**_Shush, you._**

She became aware that Vicky was looking at her expectantly. "So where are these people you're working with, Ames?"

"Outside, waiting for us." She eyed Vicky. "You know, last chance to go back to bed and pretend this is all a dream."

Vicky shook her head. "Not a chance in hell."

"Okay then." Leading the way to the front door, she unlocked it and carefully pulled it open. She had done this enough times to be familiar with it, though this time the long walk to the hospital did not lie before her. Vicky followed her as she stepped out through the door. Almost immediately, Amy spotted the newcomers waiting on the front lawn.

* * *

Despite the glare from a street light painting the scene a washed-out yellow, darkness slid away from Grue, roiling across the ground, hiding everything from the knees down. In contrast, Skitter stood in a shadow of her own making, cast by the thousands of bugs orbiting her. Bitch stood foursquare, arms folded, her dogs bulking menacingly behind her. Only Tattletale and Regent didn't seem to ooze menace and intimidation; the latter stood alongside Grue, while the former stepped forward with that cheeky grin plastered across her face.

Behind her, Amy sensed Vicky coming to a complete halt. She stopped and turned. Frozen in the act of pulling the door to, her sister was staring at the arrayed supervillains before them.

"Vicky … "

Vicky grabbed her shoulder. "Get behind me, Ames." Her voice was low and controlled. "Back into the house. Wake Mom and Dad. _Now."_

"Vicky, _no!"_ hissed Amy.

"What? Go! I'll hold them off!"

Amy shook her head desperately. "No! They're the people I'm working with!"

A long, frozen moment. Vicky stared at her, then at the arrayed villains. "No. I refuse to believe this. Not this. No _fucking_ way."

"Vicky. You promised not to freak. _Listen_ to me. _Please."_

"Y'know," commented Tattletale, "if we were here to be hostile, we could've attacked by now. Amy's telling the truth. She's working with us."

Vicky stared at her, then at Amy, her mouth dropping open. "Fuck, what's happened to you? What's going on? What sort of hold do they have over you?"

Amy rolled her eyes. "They don't _have_ a hold over me. _I_ went to _them."_

Vicky looked as though she were having trouble processing this. "What? When? Why?"

"Look," Tattletale told her briskly. "Our boss ordered us to do that bank job. We didn't _know_ that it was a diversion so he could kidnap the kid. Amy came to us, told us a whole heap of stuff, convinced us it was the right thing to do."

"Convinced _you,_ maybe," muttered Regent, clearly audible to Amy.

"Shut up, Regent," Grue told him quellingly.

"So, just because you find out your crime's a cover for another crime, you've decided to go straight?" asked Vicky disbelievingly. "That's bullshit. I don't buy it."

"If it was as simple as that, sure," Tattletale agreed. "It _would_ be bullshit. But there's more to it than that. He's an asshole. The type of guy who gives supervillains a bad name. The girl he kidnapped? She's a precog, a powerful one. He's gonna be drugging her, using her as a slave so that he's got full access to her power no matter what she wants."

"So wow," sneered Vicky. "You find out that your criminal boss is an asshole, and now you want amnesty? Sorry, it doesn't work that way."

"_No,"_ Amy told her. "They just want to help me take him down." She searched for a way to convince Vicky of her reasoning, had an inspiration. "Thing of it like our own personal Endbringer truce."

Vicky gave her a long, searching look. " … okay, fine," she admitted. "I can see that." She hooked her thumb at the assembled teen villains. "But what do _they_ get out of it?"

"Not working for an asshole, for one," Tattletale put in. "Also, it's possible to be a villain _and_ have scruples."

Vicky moved away from Amy, stepped up to the other blonde, looked her in the eye. "Really," she replied flatly.

"Really," Tattletale agreed. "I only joined his organisation because there was a gun at my head. Imagine how _that_ makes me feel."

"And I never knew he was going to be kidnapping kids," put in Skitter. "I'm not standing for that."

Vicky looked at them both for a long moment, then turned back to Amy. "So where do you come in? How come you're joining them on this? When did you even _arrange_ this?" She paused. "This afternoon. When you went out. How did you even know where to _find_ them?"

Amy took a deep breath. "That's a really long and complicated explanation. One that we don't have time to get into now. Just … what we're saying is true. We need to take him down, tonight, and rescue Dinah, before he gets her addicted and working for him. So if you're going to help us, help us. If you're not, then please don't tell anyone."

Vicky shook her head. "Fuck, Ames. I was never _not_ going to help you. I just didn't know it was going to involve supervillains."

Amy went to speak, but her voice didn't work.

_Michael?_

**_Shh. Let her work through it._**

_Oh, okay._

Tattletale waited, watching Vicky expectantly; Regent fidgeted. Skitter's swarm buzzed sullenly. Bitch waited, a glowering presence. Grue could have been a statue carved from obsidian; his darkness still flowed over the ground, almost like a living thing. The massive dogs panted silently, the puffs of steam from their nostrils highlighted by the street lamp.

Vicky raised her chin. "Okay, fine. Truce. I'll work with you to take Coil down, this one time. But after it's all over and done? I see you, I'll smack you down." She pointed at Tattletale. "Especially _you."_

Tattletale's grin widened slightly; Amy could tell that she was about to say something. Something that might just set Vicky off. "Okay, that's settled," she interjected hurriedly. "So, can we go?"

"Yeah," Grue agreed, his voice hollow and more than a little creepy. "Let's get on with this."

* * *

It was a dark night, and there were very few cars on the road; the Undersiders galloped their oversized canine mounts down the middle of the street, with Vicky flying Amy above and beside them. The only sounds came from the huffing of the great beasts and the impacts of their paws on the road surface, so it was relatively easy to maintain a conversation.

"So where are we going?" asked Vicky.

"Coil's base," explained Tattletale.

Vicky waited, but the blonde supervillain obviously wasn't interested in explaining further. "And what're we going to do once we get there?" she asked, biting the words off.

"We're waiting for a little bit, then busting in," Tattletale told her with some relish. "You've got a job elsewhere first."

"She does?" asked Amy.

**_Remember the plan? We were going to send Bitch. Vicky can get there quicker._**

_Oh, right._ Amy paused, thinking. _This actually makes the plan easier, doesn't it?_

**_That's the idea._**

"Wait," Vicky objected. _"Where_ am I going?"

Tattletale grinned. "To break and enter the house of a PRT strike squad leader, and beat him up if he's there."

"Wait, what?" Vicky stared at her. "Okay, now you're just fucking with me."

Amy shook her head. "She's really not. This is Coil's secret identity. You've got to bust in there, grab him, and beat him up. Hard. Let him know that you know who he is."

"Wait, wait," Vicky objected. "Coil's a PRT squad leader? Do you have any idea how unlikely this sounds?"

"It is what it is," Tattletale informed her blithely. "Getting cold feet?"

Vicky swooped down in front of the dogs and dropped to the ground, forcing them to stop or hit her. "No, but this stinks more every second. You assholes somehow convince my sister to come out with you to take down Coil, and now you're saying that this bastard's secretly a _PRT officer?_ Shit, even if I believed you, that's a breakage of the unwritten rules, right there."

"Coil doesn't _care_ about the unwritten rules," Amy pointed out, wriggling out of Vicky's grasp until she was standing on the ground. "He's got information on nearly every cape in Brockton Bay that they don't know about, and he'll use it to hurt us all if he has to."

"Yeah, I find that hard to believe, too," Vicky retorted. "Ames, I have no idea how they managed to get you to believe all that shit, but this ends now. I'm -"

"They didn't tell me," Amy told her desperately. "_I_ told _them."_

Vicky frowned. "And where the hell did _you_ get all this stuff from?"

Amy hesitated. _Michael?_

**_Yeah?_**

_I'm going to have to tell her._

**_Ah crap._**

_Please?_

An impression of a nod, and a sensation of resignation. **_Okay. Let's see how this pans out._**

_Thanks._

Vicky was still waiting for an answer. "Ames?"

Amy took a deep breath. "Uh, you know when I got knocked out in the bank?"

Vicky nodded, scowling at Skitter. The bug controller didn't show any emotion in return. "Not like I can actually forget."

"Right, yeah, well, when I woke up, there was someone else in my head."

Vicky's attention swivelled to focus on Regent. _"You."_

Amy shook her head quickly. "No, not him. Besides, he takes hours to get a proper hold on someone. It's someone else. From elsewhere. He's not a bad guy. He's been telling me stuff, helping me out. He's the one who told me about Marquis."

Vicky's face held an expression of deep suspicion. "If he's controlling you -"

"He's not," Amy told her hastily. "He could, but he's not. But it's why I've been acting a bit strange now and again."

"Strange or not, I don't want him in your head. Tell him to get the hell out, now."

Amy shook her head. "It doesn't work like that. He doesn't want to be here either. But he's got a job to do, and until it's done, he's stuck here. As far as I understand things, anyway."

Vicky frowned. "What the fuck? What job?"

Amy shrugged, very slightly. "As far as I can tell, he's here to save the world."

"Oh, for _fuck's_ sake," Vicky growled, rolling her eyes. "Let me talk to this jerk myself."

_Michael, you're up._

**_Fuckin' _****yay****_._**

Amy felt herself draw a breath, then she gave Vicky a nod. "Victoria Dallon," her mouth stated.

"And who the fuck are you?" demanded Vicky.

"Michael Allen, at your service," Amy heard herself say. "Once upon a time, I called myself Security. Not that you'll know either name."

"Never heard of you," confirmed Vicky. "What the fuck are you doing inside my sister?"

She must have realised what she'd said only after the words passed her lips; Tattletale's smirk widened slightly, Grue may have snorted inside his helmet, and Regent snickered.

Amy's expression didn't change at all. "I'm going to presume you didn't mean that to sound quite that way. What I'm doing here is that I ended up in your sister's head through no intent of my own. I'm not a hundred percent on what actually placed me here, though I have my suspicions. But like she said, I strongly suspect that my job here is to save the world, and just to make that job _so_ much fuckin' easier, I've got to do it as the voice in the head of a traumatised sixteen year old girl. Joy."

Mentally, Amy winced at the biting sarcasm that came out in the last sentence.

_Michael, am I really … that traumatised?_

**_Trust me, kiddo. Nine out of ten people in this shitty old world of yours is walking wounded. You're hurting and you don't even know it. I'm just trying not to make it worse._**

Accompanying the words was a fleeting sensation, as of a hug. Obscurely, she felt comforted. _Thanks._

**_You're welcome._**

"Wait, seriously, so that's it?" demanded Vicky. "That's all the explanation you're going to give me?"

"Vicky," Amy's voice told her patiently. _"You're_ the one who wanted to come along on this expedition. Now, I've given Amy and the Undersiders all the information I can on how to take down Coil, and why it should be tonight. I'd much rather leave her out of all this, but I can't very well do that when she's all the mobility I've got at the moment. So do me a favour. Either come along and give us a hand, or back off and leave us to get on with it."

"Or I could just fly Amy back home," Vicky countered. "Wake up Mom and Dad, let them know what's going on."

**_Shit. She could too._**

_Michael, let me talk._

Amy felt control returning to her. **_Okay, go for it._**

_Thanks. _"Vicky, no, don't, please," she urged her sister. "It's me, Amy. What Michael is telling you is the absolute truth. And you _promised_ not to pull this exact shit on me."

Vicky hesitated. "Shit. No, the promise doesn't count. I didn't know -"

"Like hell it doesn't count," Amy retorted. "Have I _ever_ broken a promise I made to you? Even if I didn't know all of what was going on, or if I'd get in trouble?"

"But this is more important -" began Vicky.

"No, it's _not,"_ argued Amy. "There's a twelve year old girl who's currently being addicted to drugs _right now_ by a man who doesn't care at all about her, except that she's got a power he can make use of. That man is willing to make use of his authority as a PRT squad leader to cover up what he does as a criminal."

**_Well, I don't know that he _****does -**

_Would he? If he had to?_

**_Shit, yeah. In a heartbeat._**

_Well then._

"And you know this for a fact?" Vicky asked reluctantly.

"Michael does," Amy informed her. "And he told me, and the Undersiders, stuff that _no-one_ should be able to know. Stuff that convinced them to turn against their boss."

"So _tell_ the PRT," Vicky suggested. "Put it out there. Let them know about it."

Tattletale slid down off the dog she had been sitting on. Turning to face Vicky, she shook her head. "No can do. Absolute _best_ case scenario is that he disappears with her. Anything slightly less than best case? We each end up face down in a back alley with a nine-millimetre lobotomy. Because he _can_ find us, and he _can _make sure that we die, and he _can_ get away with it."

Vicky frowned. "Fuck." She stared at Amy. "You're certain of this."

Amy nodded. "Absolutely. I believe Michael implicitly."

The blonde hero grimaced. "Fuck," she muttered again. "Right. I said I'd back you up. Okay, fine. Who's this guy I'm supposed to beat shit out of?"

"His name is Thomas Calvert," Amy supplied. "Did you bring your phone?"

Vicky nodded. "I did," she confirmed, pulling it out.

"Texting you the address now," Tattletale told her, tapping away on her own phone.

"Wait a minute," Vicky protested as her phone chimed. "I never gave you my number."

Tattletale grinned. "No, you didn't, did you?"

Vicky set her jaw and took a step toward Tattletale; Amy felt her aura flare. Gritting her teeth against it, she put a hand on her sister's shoulder. "Vicky, not the time. Please."

Slowly, Vicky nodded. "Okay, fine. I'll go beat this guy up." She took off straight up; her dark-clad form was quickly swallowed by the night.

"Well," commented Regent quietly, "I never thought I'd meet someone who produces more testosterone than you do, Grue."

"Fuck you, Regent," Grue replied, just as quietly. "And keep a lid on comments like that. Both of you."

Tattletale approached Amy. "You okay?" she asked the biokinetic, putting a hand on her shoulder.

Amy nodded. "Sorry about that. She caught me leaving the house."

"Figured as much," Tattletale told her. "Shit happens. Let's get closer to Coil's base. You can ride behind Skitter."

* * *

Amy was glad for the tough fabric of her jeans, because the rough back of the grotesquely oversized dog-thing was not conducive to ease of sitting. She hung on to bony spurs and hoped that her hips weren't about to dislocate, as they felt they might; the roadway blurred by below them, for all that the gigantic dog was merely lolloping along at a steady pace.

"Much further?" she asked Skitter.

The skinny bug controller shrugged. "I have no idea. I've never been there myself."

"Oh, right. You said you'd only been working for him a short time." She still had a hard time connecting Taylor with the creepy-looking girl with the flat yellow gaze.

"Yeah." Skitter shrugged again. "When the heroes are dicks and the villains are actually nice to you, what are you gonna do?"

It wasn't something Amy had ever considered. She had been born into a family of superheroes, and Vicky had been cape-mad ever since she had known what capes were. Even when she got her powers, it had never been a matter of doubt as to what she was going to do with them. The decision had been made for her, it seemed, and she had never been able to find a good enough reason to overturn it.

_Maybe I should have put my foot down. Maybe I should have asserted myself a little more._

**_Not sure if it would've done any good. You had constant pressure from Carol to be good or else, and from Vicky, expecting you to be a hero._**

_Well, I doubt that I would've become a _**_villain_**_._

**_So you reckon maybe just a healer for hire?_**

_I don't know._ Amy thought about that. _I'd probably have just as much pressure on me as I do now._

**_Heh, no._** He sounded amused. **_You know what the great thing about having sole access to a very rare, very in-demand commodity is?_**

Amy frowned. _What?_

**_Being able to set your own price. Also, your own working hours._**

She felt somewhat disquieted. _That makes me feel … cheapened._

**_Hell no. Expensive. Very expensive. Also, set a limit on how many people you see a day, and tell the ones who can be dealt with by doctors to _****see a damn doctor!**

She blinked at his vehemence. _Are you actually saying that's what I should do?_

**_Nope. Not gonna tell you what to do. Just telling you what you _****can****_ do, if you feel like it. You don't _****have****_ to be a hero. You're under no obligation to keep putting yourself out there._**

Amy was still trying to get her head around that when her phone rang.

* * *

_Vicky hovered in the air near the house. It was a typical suburban cookie-cutter dwelling, the same as every other house near it. Tapping in Amy's number from memory, she dialled._

"**_Vicky? What's up?"_**

_She wasted no time on pleasantries. "Look, are you sure of your information? I do this, there's all sorts of consequences if I'm wrong."_

"**_Vicky, I told you. He's a supervillain. Plus, Michael tells me that his power lets him think he can get away with anything. Especially with female capes that he's captured."_**

_She felt a chill of rage go down her spine. "You mean he -"_

"**_I mean exactly that, yeah."_**_ Amy's voice was equally cold. _**_"And he's got a way of making sure that no-one ever finds out."_**

"_Shit. Right. Okay." Vicky eyed the house. "So I bust in, grab him, beat him up."_

"**_Yes,"_**_ Amy told her. _**_"Make sure he knows why you're doing it. Break a few bones. I'll fix any permanent damage."_**_ She paused. _**_"You _****are**_** at the right place."**__ It wasn't a question._

"_Checked it three times." She took a deep breath. "Okay then. I'll call back when I'm done."_

"**_Okay. Kick ass."_**

"_Always do." Ending the call, she slid the phone into her pocket. Momentarily, she considered walking up the front path and kicking in the front door, then she shrugged. Lining up, she accelerated at the front wall of the house._

**_If something's worth doing, it's worth doing properly._**

* * *

_Coil's head came up as he sat at the computer console. In the other timeline, he had been awoken by a tremendous crash, as of the house coming down around his ears. He blinked as he tried to figure out what was going on; at the same time, he picked up his phone and tapped in a query. The answer came back immediately; the alarm system in his house had been triggered._

**_Who's attacking me, and why?_**

_His other self scrambled out of bed, switching on the light and reaching into the bedside drawer for a firearm. A surge of terror nearly disabled him, the weapon slipping from his nerveless fingers and clattering to the floor._

"_Coil!" a feminine voice screamed. "Coil! I'm coming for you!"_

**_Fuck, how did this get out? And who is this?_**

_He forced himself to pick up the pistol; he was terrified, but he could still act. The very fact that he _**_was_**_ terrified puzzled him; he had been in far worse situations. _**_Are my emotions being affected from the outside?_**

_Whatever it was, it didn't affect the version of him sitting in his base, of course, but it was affecting the combat capability of his other self. He only knew of one female emotion-altering cape in Brockton Bay. _**_Why is _****Glory Girl****_ attacking me in the middle of the night?_**

_His bedroom door smashed off of its hinges, and a dark-clad figure lunged through. The accompanying wave of terror turned his guts to water and made him soil himself, but he still managed to get off a couple of shots. One hit, but the other missed; she didn't falter in the slightest._

_Enough of her face was showing that he was sure it was indeed Victoria Dallon as she blurred across the room and smashed the gun from his hands; next, she grabbed him and threw him at the wall hard enough to crunch plaster. The plaster wasn't all that crunched, either; he felt his shoulder and some ribs go._

"_Why are you doing this?" he pleaded as she grabbed him again._

"_Shut up, you bastard," she growled. "Thomas Calvert, aka Coil, I'm making a citizen's arrest." She threw him across the room again, back at the bed. He felt more ribs go, and there was something wrong with his legs as he landed on the floor._

"_You can stop … hitting me," he grunted, racked with agony._

"_Nope," she replied. "I need to hit _**_someone_**_, and you're it." She picked him up by the front of his pyjamas, just as he brought his hand up. __Holding the pepper spray that had been on top of his nightstand._

_He sprayed it liberally in her face, but of course she ignored it. Until he punched her solidly in the jaw. His fist stung, but she inhaled the cloud of spray, and doubled over, coughing and choking._

"_Okay," he growled, grabbing her by the throat. "Who sent you after me, and why?"_

_Too late, he saw her straighten up, resolve in her eyes.__ Too late, he saw her fist coming up. It smashed into him._

_Blackness._

_That timeline ended._

* * *

_Coil sat back in his chair, confused. Splitting the timelines had been a regular precaution of his for years, and occasionally it had proven useful. This time, it had saved his life. He just didn't know _**_why_**_ Victoria Dallon had burst into his house, out of costume, with the clear intent to maim or kill him. And the fact that she was still out there posed a clear and present threat to his safety._

_He split the timeline. This required investigation._

* * *

Amy's phone rang again. She answered it immediately. "Vicky?"

"_Ames? You sure this is the right place?"_

"Absolutely certain. Why?"

"_Because I just busted the place up and there's no-one here. And now I hear sirens."_

"You'd better get out of there."

"_But I can't find him."_

"You won't. Trust me. I'll text you the address of where we are now."

"_I'm going to need some explanations."_

"You'll get it. Just don't get caught on site."

"_Okay. See you soon."_

Vicky hung up, and Amy sent the text, then put her phone away. _Well, you were right._

**_It's what he does._**

_So if Coil wasn't there …_

**_He's in his base. Vicky just flushed him there for us._**

_So why did we want him in the base and alert? Surely it would've been better if we separated him from his men._

**_He's got it wired to self destruct. And I don't trust him not to be able to do it remotely._**

_Oh. Oh yeah. Wow._

**_Yup._**

At that moment, Tattletale's phone rang. She let it go for a moment, then picked it up. "Yeah?" she asked, yawning.

Amy didn't hear much of the conversation that followed, but it obviously had something to do with Glory Girl, and their encounter in the bank. Tattletale hung up just as Vicky came swooping in out of the darkness.

"Okay, someone please tell me why the fuck I just committed several felonies for no visible gain," the blonde hero snapped.

"Long story short?" Tattletale grinned. "He's a precog who can experience two timelines at once. One timeline he's at home, the other he's in his base. He'll shut down whichever one he doesn't like."

"So you sent me to his house, and in the other timeline I beat him up," realised Vicky. "How do we know it even worked?"

"Because he wasn't there," Amy supplied. "So we're in the timeline where he's in his base."

Vicky nodded slowly. "I've heard weirder things. So what do we do now?"

"Simple," Tattletale told her. "We go kick his ass."

* * *

End of Part Ten


	11. Chapter 11

**I, Panacea**

* * *

Part Eleven: Stations of Canon

* * *

**_Wait._**

_What?_

**_I said wait. There was something else that you needed to do before we go in._**

_What's that?_

**_Bugs. Lots of bugs._**

_But Taylor – I mean Skitter – already has a swarm with her._

**_Remember what I told you on the bus? The sorts of bugs you can make?_**

_I … I've never done that sort of thing before._

**_Actually, yes, you have. I saw you do it. It just wasn't you, that time._**

… _that doesn't actually make any sense._ Although she knew it did, in a really weird way.

There was a sigh inside Amy's head. **_So tell me what part of this does._**

… _you have a good point._

She heard Vicky clearing her throat, and looked up guiltily. "Sorry, what?"

"I was just asking you if you're ready to rock and roll," Vicky told her. "You were a million miles away."

"I, uh, just thought of something I had to do," Amy replied. She looked toward Skitter. "What sort of bugs do you have here?"

'Here' was a shadowed alleyway just across the road from a construction site. Amy wasn't sure why they were here, but this was where Lisa had led them to.

"Uh, hornets, honeybees, wasps, brown recluses, black widows, fire ants -"

Amy cut her off. "I'll need some beetles and hornets."

"How many?"

She pushed her sleeves up. "As many as you can give me. Land them on my arms and hands."

Tattletale suddenly looked very intent. "He's told you something, hasn't he?"

"'He'?" asked Glory Girl. "Wh- oh, right. The guy in your head, right?"

Amy nodded. "Yeah."

"This is still very weird, and not a little creepy," Vicky decided. "What's he told you?"

"Stuff," Amy replied. "Lots of important stuff." Already, beetles of all sizes were descending upon her upturned arms and hands, interspersed with large hornets. She couldn't see them at all well – the alley was ill-lit – but as they touched her skin, she registered each and every one.

_What should I make?_

**_Think about what she's going to need them for. That should inform your choice._**

_Ah, right. _She recalled which bugs he'd told her she could make. Visualising them, she could see the steps to making it work. _Okay, yeah, I think I've got it._

**_Good._** He paused. **_Now, I don't want to beat a dead horse, but you _****are****_ okay with this, right? I get the impression you're still not so sure about helping supervillains._**

_Sure. I'll make the bugs but I'm taking away their ability to breed or eat, plus their aggressive instincts. I don't want Skitter to have them for too long._

**_That sounds fine. So long as they work here and now._**

She frowned, wary at his easy acquiescence. _You aren't going to give me a speech about how I should be more trusting?_

**_Do you not actually trust her, or are you doing this to see how I react?_**

_I – _She paused. _I guess it's a little bit of both?_

**_How did you expect me to act?_**

_To, I don't know, tell me that we don't have time for this crap, and remind me how well Taylor and I got along on the bus._

**_Listen, if you still don't trust her, if you don't trust the Undersiders, I can't make you trust them. It's as simple as that. You're still going through with this, and making the bugs. So long as _****you're****_ comfortable with your motivations in the matter, I'm good with this._**

_And the bugs?_

**_If you change your mind, you can always make more that can breed and eat – though I'd advise you to put the breeding function solely under Taylor's control. We don't want them escaping into the wild._**

His reassurances steadied her. _That's a good idea. _She took a deep breath. _Okay then._ She began altering the hornets; it was only a small modification, and she finished with each one in seconds.

"What do they do?" asked Skitter quietly, and Amy jumped; the dark-clad girl had moved up right alongside her.

Amy explained briefly. "You can use them for -"

"Oh, I get it," Skitter told her. "I definitely get it. Thanks – and thank him for me, too."

She stepped back, almost merging with the shadows; the bugs that Amy had finished with were taking wing and flying over to her, landing on her and disappearing.

_Are they in her hair?_

**_And a compartment down her back, yeah._**

_Ew. I don't know if I could stand that._

**_She was kind of grossed about it at first, but got used to it._**

Amy considered that. _She takes a lot of this in her stride, doesn't she?_

**_She's got what some would call a low-end power. She thinks a lot about how to leverage her ability. You just gave her some really, really good levers._**

_Am I going to regret this?_

**_A lot less than you would have regretted certain other choices you're never going to make, now._**

* * *

Amy let that slide; once she had finished with the hornets, she turned her attention to the beetles. Some of them she took apart with her power and merged together into larger specimens; then she started modifying these as well. It was an interesting modification, one that she wasn't sure she would have thought of on her own.

She was only a few moments into it when Grue cleared his throat; the sound was a hollow echo, the skull-detail of his visor seeming to hover in midair. "Just waiting around like this is a bad idea. If Coil has external security, or even just cameras -"

"He doesn't," interrupted Tattletale. "Leave her be. What she's doing is going to increase our chances of success considerably."

"You mean we _didn't_ have a good chance of success before?" asked Regent sharply.

"It was _good,"_ Tattletale told him. "Just not fantastic." Her phone rang; she answered it, turning away down the alley for a little privacy.

Amy paid little attention, working on creating more useful bugs out of the ones that Taylor was landing on her arms. Michael said little; she got the impression that he was watching the process in sheer aesthetic fascination.

Tattletale returned. "We don't have much time," she informed the group. "Coil's expecting me soon."

Amy's head came up. "What? Why?"

"He wants to ask me about Glory Girl's attack on his house, and subtly question me to find out if I know anything about it," was the candid reply. "After all," she added, apparently addressing the next statement to Vicky, "you and I _did_ have a conversation of sorts in the bank, and I _have_ been known to be persuasive, from time to time."

Vicky snorted. "Yeah, that'd happen."

"How much time do we have?" That was Skitter, standing motionless, almost invisible in the dimness. The greys and blacks of her costume blended with the shadows, almost as well as Grue's did; the only thing that spoiled it was the yellow lenses of her mask, which tended to catch the light. In a way, they were even creepier than Grue's skull visor.

"Couple minutes," Tattletale told her. "I didn't tell anyone because time wasn't of the essence. We _were_ heading here, after all. But now it is. So I'm telling you."

Amy concentrated, working on converting bugs while she spoke. "So the plan's still roughly the same?"

"Roughly, yes," agreed Tattletale. "But now we've got a Glory Girl to hit things till they fall down." From the tone of her voice, Amy just _knew_ she was grinning that irritating grin.

"Yeah, well, right now I'm considering getting some practice in." Vicky was already on edge; it didn't seem like it would take much to push her over the edge.

**_May I?_**

_Feel free._

"Tattletale. Do us all a favour and don't irritate the Alexandria Junior." Amy heard her own voice, with much more of a snap than she usually put into it. Tattletale paused and looked around; she obviously knew that Amy wasn't the one speaking. "And Glory Girl, don't let her get up your nose. You agreed to do this. You're a hero; act like it. There's a twelve year old girl to rescue, after all."

Both girls looked at Amy, and shut up; Vicky stepped away from her aggressive stance and came to stand next to Amy.

"You're not normally like this, Ames," she murmured. "Was that you, or -"

"Amy's busy," Amy's mouth replied, just as quietly. "We do not need this distraction. Do your sister and yourself a favour and don't let Tattletale needle you. She does it for fun, you know."

"Do we really need to work with these people?" demanded Vicky in a low tone. "They're _villains!"_

"Yes, they are, and yes, we do, unless we want Coil to become nigh untouchable, with a drug-addicted schoolgirl at his mercy," Amy heard herself say. "Endbringer truce, remember?"

Vicky gave an aggravated sigh. "I wish you weren't so right."

"I'm in," announced Skitter suddenly.

"What?" asked Grue.

"I've found my way through the air vents. I'm getting my bugs inside right now." To Amy's ear, Skitter sounded very pleased with herself.

"Firearms are priority," Tattletale told her. "Security, how many men does he have?"

"About fifty," Amy's voice replied. "Grue, you're going to need to use your fog once we're in there. They've got powerful laser mounts on their rifles. Skitter, once the attack starts, kill Coil's computer. Shut it down totally. We can extract the hard drive and access it later."

"What – oh, self-destruct, right," Tattletale noted.

"Found his barracks. Found his men. Found him. Found his computer." Skitter paused. "Found the girl."

"What sort of shape is she in?" asked Vicky sharply.

Skitter paused again. "I don't think she's conscious."

"But alive?"

"Yeah, she's breathing."

"Where is Coil, and what's he doing?" asked Tattletale.

"At his computer," Skitter replied. "Looking at stuff. Talking on the phone. Don't know who, don't know what he's looking at. Bug senses are crap."

"Let's go," decided Tattletale.

Amy spoke up. "I haven't done all the bugs I need to do."

"Make 'em on the move," the blonde villain replied. "Much more of this and he's likely to try to get out of the base."

**_I'll walk you. You concentrate on bugs._**

_Okay._

**_Gives a whole new meaning to walking on autopilot, doesn't it?_**

_Oh, ha ha._

* * *

Moving quickly and quietly, they crossed the road and entered the construction site. At an almost soundless whistle from Bitch, the dogs – gradually reducing in size, now that she wasn't exerting her power on them – followed along behind. Still converting bugs, with more arriving every second, and the finished ones flying off again, Amy found that she didn't have to pay any attention to walking at all; true to his word, Michael was handling that side of things.

There was a fence surrounding the main area, composed of conjoined panels bolted together; a chain, held together with a padlock, secured two panels, one of which was obviously intended to act as a gate.

_Well, that's helpful._

**_Lisa's got a key._**

Without much surprise, Amy saw that this was true; in the stillness, even over the sound of their feet crunching on gravel, she heard the _click_ as the lock opened, then the rattle of the chain being pulled through the opening in the 'gate' panel. _Of course she does._ She eyed the skeletal building above, what she could see of it against the night sky. _I'm guessing that Coil owns this construction site._

_**Pretty sure you're right. Don't forget, he owns Fortress Constructions.**_

_But they … they build Endbringer shelters._

_**Indeed they do.**_

_They save _**_lives_**_!_

_**And make him squillions of dollars in the process, let's not forget.**_

_Oh. Yeah. There is that._

_**Nothing wrong with a bad guy doing something good if he can also pull in an obscene profit in the process. Anyway, how do you think he managed to pull off a Bond-villain base under Brockton Bay?**_

… _he had his own construction company build it._

_**Bingo.**_

_And used his powers to choose the right timeline to ensure that no-one knew about it._

_**Handy, yeah?**_

_I'll bet._

* * *

They were all inside the construction site by now. Lisa draped the chain back through the 'gate', then led the way to where Amy was waiting alongside a hatch cover; it had some sort of warning label on it, that wasn't really readable in the dim light.

"You've been here before, haven't you?" asked Lisa.

Amy's shoulders shrugged. "Once. But that time I had a bulletproof vest on, and I was being escorted by a PRT guy. Plus, we had Canary, as well as Protectorate and Wards with us." She felt her head turn, as she looked at each of them. "We kicked the crap out of them that time, and hopefully the Travellers won't be in residence." She paused. "Just remember, once we've got Dinah and dealt with Coil, we pull out as fast as we can, and we call in the PRT. And while we're in there, we don't make any noise we absolutely don't have to."

"Because of the Case Fifty-Three in the vault, right?" Lisa's voice was chirpy. "You only gave us a few details before. Got any more?"

"Vault? Case Fifty-Three?" Vicky's voice was startled. "First I've heard of this."

_Oh crap, we didn't fill her in, did we?_

**_Nope._**

Amy found herself switching her gaze between Tattletale and Vicky. "Like I said, her name is Noelle Meinhardt. She's roughly the size of an elephant or two, and she eats anything that comes near her. Literally; she can absorb anything organic into her body, and once you're touching her, you lose control of your body. You don't come loose unless someone really strong is pulling hard. If it comes to a contest between Amy's powers and hers, Noelle wins. Worse; if she eats something living – _anything_ living – she can spit out a twisted clone of it, one with all its memories and a total hatred of everything it loved. Cloned parahumans also get a twisted version of their powers. So long as she has the parahuman inside her, she can keep spitting them out. If she gets loose, it's pretty damn close to an Endbringer attack. She's also highly regenerative. She survives being literally cut in half at one point."

"What kills her?" It was Tattletale. "Something _does_ kill her, right?"

Amy felt her head nod. "Sundancer's mobile sun. Which is a problem, this time around."

"Why?" asked Regent lightly. "Travellers are villains, they probably need the cash. We pay her, she does it."

"Because she's _one_ of them." Amy heard the grimness in her own voice. "Trickster is in love with her; he will violently oppose any plan to kill her. Even if she's running rampant at the time."

"Good to know." Grue's voice was an almost silent rumble. "Although you might have told us those other details _before_ roping us into this little rescue mission."

_He has a really good point there._ Amy was somewhat shaken at the description that Michael had given. _I don't want to go up against that. Especially as you say that my power is trumped by hers._

**_Given that our current plan to deal with her is 'let the PRT handle it' … yeah. Good idea. Though I still think the 'make Coil a good guy' concept has merit._**

_Ew. No._ She paused. _How do we know that her power beats mine, anyway?_

**_Coil tried, in a timeline he dropped. Apparently it turned out badly._**

… _how do _**_you_**_ know about that?_

**_Same way I know about a lot of other things._**

She waited, but he didn't enlighten her. _Okay, fine. Be that way._

_**Thanks, I will.**_

_I think Grue is waiting for an answer._

**_Oh, right._**

She looked up at the tall teenage villain and felt her throat being cleared. "Because they don't really change matters … and because I wanted them to be fresh in your mind when we go in. Just in case." A glance at Skitter. "Have you got everyone marked yet?"

"Just about. I hope the bugs work as well as you say they do."

Amy felt a smile stretch her lips. "Heh. Yeah. They surely do." Her gaze turned to Vicky. "Having heard that … are you still sure you want to come with?"

"Like I said before, Ames," Vicky told her steadily, "if you're in this, I'm in this." She paused. "Quick question."

Amy's head nodded. "Shoot."

"This Noelle person. What happens if I hit her with something _else?_ Like a piece of rebar, or something?"

Amy's shoulders shrugged. "You hit her. But she's got serious Brute ratings."

Vicky's teeth gleamed in a brief smile. "So do I. Thanks. I'm good."

"Good to hear," Tattletale remarked, "because it's time we moved in. Coil expects me in the next few minutes." Lifting the hatch cover with a grunt, she descended a set of steps. One by one they followed her; Grue, the last in, lowered the hatch to the 'closed' position once more.

* * *

Within the access tunnel, it was absolutely, utterly pitch black. She heard someone fumbling with something, and then there was a _click_ and a beam of light splashed across the ceiling. Tattletale held a small flashlight; it wasn't that bright, but with her eyes adapted to the darkness, Amy felt that it was bright as daylight. Looking at each of them in turn, Tattletale gestured for quiet, then led the way down the tunnel.

_What was it like, the last time you were here?_

**_A lot darker. We were using night vision, and I didn't have a set of goggles._**

_I suppose this time we're expected. Or at least Lisa is._

**_Yup. Hoping that makes a difference._**

_You don't know?_

**_Hey, making this up as I go along._**

_Yay._

* * *

**_I need to find out what's going on._**

_With his current project still undergoing the process of addiction, Coil had to fall back on Tattletale. He currently had the timelines split; in one, he stayed in his base, while in the other, he left it and travelled to a safe-house. In both timelines, he called upon Tattletale to attend him._

_His rule was to not indulge himself on his powered minions; they were hard to replace. However, in this particular circumstance, he really, desperately needed to get the truth; he was aware of Tattletale's attempted machinations against him, and so he had to find out if she was the one engineering this. If it was, he could find out the full plot and deal with it. If not … well, she was still very intuitive. Give her enough details of the encounter, and the chances were that she could work out the plot, and perhaps even point him toward the perpetrators._

_And so, in his base, she would be treated with courtesy and respect. In the safe house, she would be treated … roughly. The answers would be compared, and used on both timelines to elicit farther answers from her. It was a technique that he had polished over time. Afterward, he would drop the safe-house line, so that she would never have been there._

_Of course, it helped to have both questioning sessions going on at the same time, so he had timed his orders to Tattletale so that she arrived at both locations at the same time._

_He leaned back in his computer chair and waited. It wouldn't be long before he got his answers._

_One way or the other._

* * *

**_Tell everyone, small room coming up. Everyone should hang back, so Tattletale can do her thing._**

_Okay._ Amy cleared her throat as quietly as she could. "Small room coming up. Everyone stay back. Tattletale goes in."

Lisa's head turned toward her. "I was just about to say that. You _have_ been here before."

"That's what he says," Amy replied, flushing slightly.

"Okay then. Grue?"

As Tattletale stepped into the room, Grue moved to the front of the group, billowing his darkness around them. Amy understood the idea; it was to prevent the camera seeing them via a chance movement of the flashlight. She just didn't enjoy being in the almost suffocating lack of light.

**_It's weird stuff. Generated by his power, it acts like gas. Breathable, but absorbs all EM radiation with perfect efficiency. Dulls sound, and old scents as well. And he can see through it, of course._**

_How do you know so much about it?_

**_Not my first rodeo, remember?_**

_Hmm._ She wanted to push the issue further; there was something he was holding back, she was sure. But at that moment, she felt a movement as someone pushed past her. _What was that?_

**_That was Skitter. I'd say Grue and her are dealing with the mercenaries on base._**

This part of the plan had been detailed already; as Grue could see through his own darkness, and Skitter could use her bugs to navigate, they would move through the base in a cloud of darkness and take down the mercenaries as they came to them. Mired in Grue's darkness, the mercenaries would be out of touch with one another and with Coil; they would neither see nor hear Grue and Skitter coming.

_I suppose it's a little bit unfair._

**_It's a whole lot unfair. But do you know what they call someone who offers his opponent a fair fight when he doesn't have to?_**

_A sportsman?_

**_An idiot. _**His tone was hard. _**Coil doesn't deserve a fair fight. He never gave anyone else one. He shot his commanding officer in the back, once upon a time.**_

_Wow, really?_

**_Yeah._**

_How did that happen?_

**_Well, this was back in two thousand one. Ellisburg. Remember that?_**

_I read about it in school._

**_Okay then. Calvert was a junior officer in one of the squads that went into Ellisburg …_**

* * *

_At first, Coil wasn't sure what was happening. In both his base and the safe house, contact was lost with the guards manning the entrance. And then a swirl of blackness swept in, blotting out everything. He knew, then. There was only one person who could do that, and that person was nominally in his pay._

_He had planned for this, of course. It was only sensible to make plans for the possibility of any of his parahuman minions turning against him. Unfortunately, those plans required that he be free and clear in the _**_other_**_ timeline._

_Drawing his pistol, he fired blindly into the fog, in the general direction of the entrance; his men, as well trained as they were, would also be firing into the darkness, hoping to catch the interlopers in a crossfire._

_But his pistol refused to fire at all; investigating, he found that the hammer was frozen solid. No amount of force would allow it to travel back. He tried to work the slide; that, also, was locked solid._

_Tossing the useless weapon aside, he turned back to the keyboard. He might not be able to see it, but he could certainly enter the destruct code for the base. There was a secret back way out of the safe house …_

_In the safe-house, he felt his way along the wall, pushed aside a panel, and stepped into a secret way out. The panel slid back into place; he found his sight clearing, and moved more quickly now. He would have to destroy the base; there was far too much in the way of incriminating evidence there. Pulling out his phone, he sent the destruct signal; as he paused beside the outer panel, he got the return signal that it had been carried out. He pushed aside the outer panel, and found himself face to face with a very large dog._

_Something was wrong; the base should have been destroyed by now. That timeline was still active and running. He tried to re-enter the destruct code on the keyboard, but his arms and hands were heavy, floppy, unresponsive. As his other-timeline self was seized and shaken like a rag doll between merciless jaws, he realised with horror that _**_this_**_ timeline might be the only viable one left._

_Why hadn't the base blown up yet?_

_As his spinal vertebrae were crunched like so much popcorn between the jaws of the monstrous dog, he shut down the safe-house timeline and reverted to the base timeline. He wasn't quite sure what was going on, save perhaps that they were still dealing with his mercenaries. How they had fixed his pistol not to fire, he wasn't sure. Or disabled his arms, for that matter._

_And then his arms wouldn't move at all; they felt almost glued to the arms of the computer chair. He tried to make them obey him, but there was no response, no matter how he strained. But then, ever so slowly, the darkness began to fade away._

_His wrists, he saw, were fastened to the arms of the chair with zip-ties. With whatever had been done to him, he hadn't even felt it._

_And then the darkness faded farther, and he saw them. The Undersiders; standing in a semi-circle, observing him dispassionately. With them … he wasn't sure. Teenage girls, definitely, wearing dark clothes. One shorter than the other. The shorter one holding Dinah by the hand._

_And then he recognised the taller one as having smashed into his house, and everything clicked together._

"_Well done," he stated in as congratulatory tone as he could manage. "I'm proud of you, Tattletale. How did you ever talk these two young heroes into helping you?"_

* * *

"I didn't," Tattletale told him cheerfully. _"They_ came to_ me_. Told us about Dinah."

Skitter stepped forward. "How _could_ you?" she asked bitterly. "You _used_ us."

Coil shrugged, as best he could. Apparently, his best wasn't great. "Villain, remember?" he pointed out. "I needed a diversion."

This was the truth, Amy judged. Tattletale would be calling him on it, otherwise.

"And talking about that," Coil went on, "did you delay the self-destruct or halt it, because if the former, we're all in danger here."

"Self-destruct?" asked Tattletale mockingly. "What self-destruct?"

Amy saw Coil turn his head; the cords leading to and from his computer had been severed. As he did so, several large bugs of what Michael called the 'cutter' type scuttled from under his desk and up Skitter's legs. Although she had to be aware of the creatures, she ignored them. At Michael's suggestion, she had built them with acid glands to better cut through whatever they were gnawing on.

_Where _**_did_**_ you get that idea from?_

**_Well, last time around, it was _****your**_** idea.**_

_Oh._ She felt oddly pleased.

"Well, then," Coil stated. "How did you disable my firearm? And what _did_ you do to my arms?"

Grue stepped up to him then. "We're the ones asking questions," he rumbled. "And I've got a really simple one."

"So ask." Coil leaned back in the chair, apparently at ease.

_Damn, he's a cool one._

**_Hell yes._**

Grue leaned close. "We were told that you bought your powers. Who did you buy them _from?"_

Amy felt her eyes open wide. **_Oh shit -_**

_Is it so bad?_

_**Fucking **_**yes.**

Before either she or Michael could speak, however, another voice broke in.

"That is a question that you do not need to have answered." The voice was feminine, assured, and held no particular accent.

The group before Coil turned; a woman was standing there, where seconds before there had been nobody. Behind her, as a hint as to where she had come from, a portal in midair was just closing. She wore an immaculate business suit; her dark hair contrasted with her pale skin.

Despite being outnumbered six to one, she seemed not at all concerned by the odds stacked against her.

**_Oh shit oh shit oh shit._**

* * *

End of Part Eleven


	12. Chapter 12

**I, Panacea**

* * *

Part Twelve: Escalation

* * *

Amy felt Michael take her body over, and inhale deeply; at the same time, he shoved Dinah behind her.

_What - ?_

_**Sorry -**_

He didn't even bother finishing the thought; the moment that he had finished filling her lungs with air, he expelled it all in a shout.

_**"EVERYONE STAND THE FUCK DOWN!"**_

But it was too late. Amy had a split second to consider the fact that if he had not used the expletive, they may have heard him in time. However, around about the same instant that Amy's front teeth were pressing into her lower lip to form the 'f' sound, Bitch gave a sharp command. Snarling and barking – and, incidentally, drowning the final two words out – the dogs leaped to the attack.

Regent lifted his arms to gesture; Grue started forward with blackness welling up around him. But even faster than Grue and the dogs was Vicky; taking to the air, she lunged at the woman. Amy saw the woman sway aside, removing her hat and placing it over Vicky's face in a perfectly-timed move; at the same time, she swung a fist. Blinded by the hat, Vicky went past the woman and hit one of the catwalk supports; the woman's fist struck her in the solar plexus just a fraction of a second later, dropping her to the metal grating with a groan.

The dogs were almost upon her; she darted into Grue's blackness. They followed, of course.

_Christ. They'll tear -_

Amy was still formulating the thought by the time that one dog came flying out of the black fog backwards and another sideways; each one dragged tattered fragments of the blackness with it. The first one hit Regent at about chest height, while the second struck Skitter in the solar plexus; her spider-silk costume did little to cushion the impact, and the breath _whooshed_ out of her. Both went staggering backwards; Taylor lost her balance and fell heavily, striking her head on the floor. Regent went back against the guard rail; the weight of the dog flipped him back over it, and they both disappeared from view. The third dog, emerging from the cloud a moment after the other two, hit Bitch across the face; she went over backwards as well.

The blackness dissipated; Amy saw, as it did so, that Grue was down, at the feet of the woman. Tattletale had her small pistol out, but the woman was already moving toward her; Tattletale's eyes widened behind her mask and a shot rang out. But it ricocheted from concrete; the woman had swayed from its path. And then she had her hands on it, was taking it from Tattletale's hands as easily as a mother might take a toy from the hands of a baby. Tattletale was on her knees, the arm twisted up at an angle that had to be painful.

_\- her apart._

In less time than it took to _think _about it, the mystery woman had gone from being unarmed and at the mercy of half a dozen opponents, to armed and in control of the situation. Vicky was still doubled up on the ground, while Skitter and Grue seemed to be stunned or unconscious. Bitch was also out; the dog that had collided with her was whining and licking her face. And Regent – _Regent went over the rail!_

_**Fuck. I did not want this.**_

_What are you going -_

But Michael was already moving her body forward. As if in a dream, she saw the woman turning toward her, saw the flash of utter bewilderment as her wrist slapped into Amy's palm, preventing the pistol from coming into line. The woman struggled, tried to use her superior strength, but Michael was still moving, gripping, twisting. She was behind the woman now; one final twist on the wrist and the hand opened, the pistol clattering to the metal catwalk.

Amy was only moderately fit, and not overly strong for her age, but she now saw how a relatively weak person can overcome a stronger, unskilled opponent. Her arm laced around and through the woman's, her biceps under the elbow, her hand pulling the woman's hand down hard against the wrist. The pressure, she could tell through her powers, was moderately uncomfortable, unless the victim struggled, in which case it could become extremely painful.

_**Paralyse her!**_

Reflexively, she did what he told her; her power flooded into the woman's nervous system, disabling all voluntary control over her body. Autonomous and semi-autonomous mechanisms remained, of course; she didn't want the woman suffocating. The woman sagged in her grip, and Michael prepared to lower her to the ground.

The shots that rang out took them both by surprise; the woman jolted in Amy's grasp. They echoed through the complex, one after the other; at least five in total. One bullet punched into the woman's stomach, another into her chest. The rest had gone elsewhere.

_**Fuck. Shit. What happened?**_

Amy felt the strain in her shoulders as Michael lowered the woman to the ground. Blood covered her chest and her abdomen. It soaked into her clothes, dripped through the metal grating. She could feel the thin pulse of life, getting thinner by the second. Looking up, she saw Bitch holding the pistol, pointing it, the thin curl of smoke from the barrel.

_Holy shit, Bitch shot her._

_**Fuck, fuck fuck fuck. Stabilise her!**_

_What? Why? I thought you wanted her dead!_

_**No, I wanted her not calling for help! Stabilise her! **_He seemed almost frantic with the need to save this mystery woman.

Amy concentrated; blood vessels closed, the body scavenged fatty tissues for blood. The heart rate steadied.

_Okay, she's stable. Now tell me why -_

Bitch stepped closer. "Get out of the way." She aimed the pistol.

Amy felt herself move into the path of the gun. _I've been here before. _The tiny muzzle, only a fraction of an inch, seemed even larger to her than the last time she had seen it from this perspective.

"Get out of the way," Bitch repeated. Her voice was dead, flat. The pistol shook, very slightly. Amy was fairly sure that this wasn't due to fear.

"Why? Why kill her? She's not a threat any more." Amy wasn't sure whether she was asking this, or Michael.

"She killed Brutus. She killed Regent." Bitch gestured, off to the side. Tattletale was leaning, looking down. She looked back. Amy could read from her expression that the news wasn't good.

"It's only been a few seconds." Tattletale's voice was urgent. "Amy can save Brutus. She can save both of them." She stepped forward. "Just _don't kill that woman."_

The pistol swung to point directly at Amy's face. "If you can save him, do it," gritted Bitch. Amy knew she wasn't referring to Regent. _"Now."_

"First, give me the pistol," Amy heard herself say. "Now."

"No."

"Give me. The pistol." She took a step closer.

_Why are you so anxious to save her?_

Bitch shook her head. "No," she repeated.

_**Saving the world will be a fuck-load harder without her.**_

_Saving the world?_

_**Yeah, saving the world. When I grab Bitch, you paralyse her.**_

_When you what?_

Amy's eyes lowered, her whole body hunched. "Okay. You win." She started to turn away, then lunged forward. Bitch was taken off guard by the sudden shift from submissive to aggressive behaviour, and Amy managed to grab her forearm. The pistol went off, a malignant flat _crack_, the bullet winging past her ear. And then Amy was into her nervous system, and Bitch was collapsing like a marionette with the strings cut.

Michael took a moment to lean against the rail, breathing heavily; Amy could hear her heartbeat thundering in her ears. "Fuck," her voice muttered. "I do not need shit like this."

_Regent and Brutus. We have to save them._

_**Oh. Fuck. Yes. Here, have control back.**_

Jerking upright, Amy scanned to the left and the right for stairs down. Then she turned and grabbed Vicky, who was still suffering from the punch the woman had given her. "Vicky!"

"Ungh?"

Amy pushed her power into Vicky's body, reviving her, removing the bruising, bringing her back to normal. "You need to get me down to the lower level, now!"

"Shit, okay." Vicky picked her up. "Did someone post the bank thing on Youtube, or does everyone just know my weakness now?"

_**She just knew it. It's her thing. She can do that to anyone.**_

"Michael says she knows everyone's weakness."

"Oh. Well, I feel better now. Not much, but better."

* * *

Over the rail they went, and down to the lower level. Regent lay there, his mask cracked in half. The dog lay half under him, its head twisted at an odd angle.

Falling to her knees, Amy checked on Regent. _Alive. Unconscious. Mild concussion. Landed on the dog._

"Regent's alive!" she called out.

_**Can you fix it?**_

_He'll be headachey and dizzy due to the concussion, but I can fix the bruising, wake him up._

_**If you can do that, do it.**_

_Okay._

_**No, actually. If he's fine, then check the dog. I don't want to have to deal with a more-homicidal-than-normal Bitch.**_

Amy took a deep breath, and rolled him to a more comfortable position. Then she moved to the dog.

_Broken neck. Crushed skull._

_**Is there brain activity?**_

_Some, but -_

_**Can you fix it?**_

_I can, but -_

_**But what?**_

_I'll have to work on its brain. Otherwise it'll be like it's had a stroke._

_**Do you have a moral problem with working on dog brains?**_

_I … they're pretty intelligent -_

_**Fuck. Stabilise it, so it doesn't die while we're debating the matter.**_

_I can do that, yes._

Drawing a deep breath, she fixed what she could. The crushed skull clicked back into place, the swelling went down, and the broken neck healed itself. She left the dog unconscious, and turned back to Regent.

_Aren't you going to say something?_

_**Such as?**_

_That I should fix his brain? Maybe make him a little less sociopathic?_

_**If you want to, go right ahead. You'd just be fixing pre-existing damage anyway.**_

_What do you mean?_

_**I mean that his father is Heartbreaker, and he inflicted horrors on his kids till they triggered. And he's still doing it, even today.**_

_Christ._ Amy looked more closely at Regent's brain. Now, she could see the neural scarring. _He was terrified to the point that he could no longer __**feel**__ fear._

_**Got it in one.**_

_I could change that, but that would change who he is. Who people know him to be. That's not my right._

_**And that's why you don't do brains.**_

_There's more to it than that. The body is simple; it's healthy, or it's not. It's injured, or it's not. It works, for a given definition of 'works', or it doesn't. The brain is a lot more complex._

_**I can just imagine.**_

_You really can't. There's so much going on in there, all interconnected. It's biology; I can change it as easily as I fix a broken leg. But where a broken leg is fixed and done, you can't just 'fix' a brain problem like schizophrenia. There are many underlying causes, and you have to go and fix all them, and by the time you've done all that, the person's not really the same person any more._

_**Oh. Yeah. Ouch.**_

_The worse bit is, I can see it all. I can see how it could be fixed. How I could get rid of this neurosis, and that personality disorder, and make the person a __**better**__ person. And they'd never know it. Worse, even if they did know, they might __**thank**__ me for it._

_**I can see where that could cause problems, yeah.**_

_So the basic problem isn't that I can't do brains, or that I don't know what to do. I'm just scared that I'd always want to do one more -_

And that was when they heard the shot.

_**Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck fuuuuuuuuck!**_

Amy turned to Vicky. "Get me up there now!"

Vicky didn't even argue; she simply grabbed Amy, and they went straight up and over the rail.

* * *

_Calvert tested his bonds and came up short, again. He had two timelines running, of course. In the first, he sat tight, evaluating the three girls left watching him._

_In the second, he began to speak; softly, compellingly._

* * *

"_Well, now," he murmured. "We're all in a pretty pickle now, aren't we?"_

"_Shut up," Tattletale told him flatly._

"_No, no, what does he mean?" asked Skitter. She addressed Calvert directly. "What do you mean?"_

"_I mean, dear Skitter, that the woman right there is the enforcer of the world's premier shadow organisation. She's struck fear into the hearts of more people than you can __**imagine**__. And now you've got her down and wounded. She might even die. There's going to be some very angry people over this. And these are people who don't just shrug and say, 'oh well, it was a fair fight'. These are people who __**obliterate**__ the opposition."_

"_And you've got a solution, no doubt." Skitter's voice was just a little cynical. __**She's been spending far too much time with Tattletale and Regent.**_

"_Of course I do," he agreed. "Work with me on this one. If we combine our powersets – I tell you what to do, you do it – we might just come out of this alive. We may even prosper."_

"_Shut up, I said," Tattletale ordered._

"_What's the matter?" asked Coil. "Scared I'll tell her the truth? My dear Tattletale, we're __**boned**__ here. I know who this woman's allies are; you don't. Even with your vaunted power, you'll never see them coming."_

* * *

_In the first timeline, the three girls were talking quietly._

"_So you're really all right?" asked Skitter of Dinah._

"_Uh huh," agreed the middle schooler. "I feel all right. I'll feel cravings for a bit, but that'll fade."_

"_So he was just going to keep you prisoner, keep you addicted, keep you using your power for him?"_

_Dinah nodded. "Yeah. Until you killed him and got me out of there."_

_Calvert's head came up. He managed not to respond, but Tattletale caught the movement._

"_Wow, that got you where it hurt, didn't it?" she taunted him. "I always kinda thought that I'd be the one to end you."_

"_Your reach always exceeded your grasp," he replied, stung. "Every day, part of my amusement involved dismantling your little plots before they could come to fruition."_

"_Not all of them," she shot back._

"_Yes, all of them, you stupid little girl," he retorted. "I could always out-think you. I was plotting my way around people far smarter than you before you ever -"_

_The shot interrupted him. He looked down to see the bullet-hole in the middle of his chest, slowly oozing blood._

"_Plot your way around __**that**__," Tattletale told him bitterly. "And don't call me stupid."_

_As the world went dark, he ended that timeline._

* * *

_In the second timeline, Skitter waved Tattletale to silence. "I want to hear this."_

_Calvert split off another timeline, but this seemed to be working well. __**If I can get Skitter aligned to me ...**_

_"You and I, we could work together," he told the bug controller eagerly. "You, all of you, work well together. I can provide you with strategy that works. And afterward, after we deal with this problem, we can build up the city, make it __**work**__."_

_"Fix the schools," Skitter put in._

_"Definitely fix the schools," Calvert agreed, anxious to go with what seemed important to her. Something occurred to him, and he spoke without thinking. "Your father has a lot of civic pride. Imagine what he could do as mayor."_

_Skitter's voice was very quiet. "You know who my father is?"_

_Calvert was suddenly aware that he had made a mistake; before he could rectify it, Dinah spoke up. "Eighty-seven point three six percent chance that he has your father assassinated before he finishes his first term."_

_"I – that's -" began Calvert hastily._

_"Because your father wouldn't play ball with him," Tattletale went on musingly. "He wouldn't take kick-backs or bribes. Would he?"_

_"No," Skitter replied. "He wouldn't. And Coil would have him killed?"_

_"No!" blustered Calvert. "That's ridiculous! I can work with your father! I wouldn't have him killed! Tell him, pet!"_

_"Ninety-six point nine three seven four percent chance your father survives his first term," Dinah confirmed. Skitter relaxed; Calvert breathed a sigh of relief. If this went wrong, he didn't have any way out._

_"Chances that Skitter survives the same term?" asked Tattletale._

_"Eighty-nine point three seven two four percent chance that Coil has her killed instead," Dinah noted._

_"And no doubt you'd have my dad die afterward anyway. Once I was out of the way." Skitter had the pistol in her hand. It was an untutored grip, but pointing directly at Calvert's chest._

_He opened his mouth to protest, but he knew it would do no good. They weren't listening to him any more._

_Dinah nodded. "Ninety-six point three two nine four -"_

_The pistol went off, and Calvert felt the pain in his chest. In both timelines at once._

_" - five percent chance of that happening."_

_He clutched at life; there were no more timelines. __**I can't die like this!**_

_But he did anyway._

* * *

The mystery woman still lay there; she had no new wounds, and she still breathed. It was Coil, still fastened to his chair, who slumped dead, his head hanging forward. A darker discolouration in the middle of his chest showed where the shot had gone in.

Skitter still stood, holding the pistol. Slowly, she let it fall, where it clattered once more to the grating. She turned as Amy approached.

"Why?" asked Amy.

"He was talking," Skitter mumbled. "Making big plans. Talking about my Dad."

Tattletale put her arm around Skitter's shoulders. "He talked about putting her dad in as mayor. Then Dinah mentioned the fact that he'd have the guy killed for refusing to take bribes. Even when he _knew_ that we knew, he couldn't stop plotting, planning to kill one or both of them."

"I didn't have a choice," Skitter told herself, told Amy, hopelessly. "I didn't have a choice."

_**He would have done it,**_ Michael informed Amy. _**He was an arse. But I was hoping that we could use him. Fuck. Well.**_

Amy looked at the dead man, at the almost dead woman, at the figure of Grue slowly sitting up, at the limp form of Bitch. She looked at Skitter, sitting in the chair, staring at the floor, at the still, silent form of Dinah standing by her, then turned to Vicky. "Take me back down there. I've got to finish up."

_**Not even going to try to save Coil?**_

_If he'd have Skitter assassinated, he'd have all of us assassinated._

Vicky carried her over the rail, and set her down on the floor below.

_**Really weird the way things are turning out.**_

_What do you mean? _She knelt beside Regent, looking over the head injury. There were no broken blood vessels, nothing that would cause ongoing problems.

_**She would have killed him anyway, but it would have been months later. **_**After**_** she makes him come good on the promise to release Dinah, but then he goes back on it and tries to have her killed. She gets away, and ends up killing him later on.**_

_Oh. I see. I think. _She brushed her fingertips across Regent's forehead, waking him up.

Grue's voice echoed down from above. "What's wrong with Bitch? And who _is_ this woman?"

_**May I?**_

_Sure._

Amy inhaled and looked up to call back. "She wanted to kill the woman, so I had Amy paralyse her. It's fixable. But _do not_ kill that woman. We desperately need her alive."

His voice did not sound thrilled when he answered. "Okay, fine. We've gotten this far. We'll see it through."

Control returned to Amy. _**Now for Brutus.**_

_What do I do?_

_**He's not human. You don't have to worry about taking away what he is. Surely you can just fix him.**_

_But he's a thinking being. Not as intelligent as a person, surely, but -_

_**Listen, you're going to have to draw the line between bugs and dogs, or dogs and people. Where is it? Where do you not cross over?**_

Amy felt herself shaking harder, until Michael stilled her hands. She caressed the dog's scarred head. The damage was bad, despite the fact that she had stabilised him. Some of his brain tissue was was totally disorganised from the rest; he would never have a normal life.

_He didn't know any better. He doesn't deserve this._

_**I agree.**_

Squeezing her eyes shut, she sent her power into the dog's head, reforming the damaged parts. Fixing them. Making Brutus whole once more.

_I swore I would never touch brains. Never._

_**Never is a big word, kiddo. If Vicky ever suffered brain injury from being hit on the head, would you still not fix her?**_

_Oh god, don't ask me that._

_**If I don't ask it, what happens when you're faced with it?**_

_Shut up. I don't want to hear this any more._

_**I'm sorry.**_

_And I wish I hadn't told Vicky, hadn't spoken to her. At least then I could live in hope._

_**Amy. **_His voice was grim. _**That's dangerous thinking.**_

She knew he was right, but she ploughed on anyway. _So what? It's a dangerous world. We nearly died, before. I could have died. Bitch could have shot me. Killed the both of us._

_**I had to do **_**something**_**. I couldn't let her kill Contessa.**_

"Ames?" asked Vicky. "What's the matter?"

Amy came to herself, realised that she was still kneeling between Regent and the dog. Regent was sitting up, somewhat dazedly; Brutus was still out cold. Reaching out, she brushed the dog with her fingertips, and he awoke.

* * *

"What I want to know is, who _is_ this woman?" asked Grue. They were all now on the upper level. Bitch had been revived, and sat on the floor, holding Brutus close to her, shooting Amy suspicious glances from time to time.

_**Can I talk?**_

_Yeah, sure, go ahead. _Amy didn't care any more.

"Her name is Contessa," Michael explained. "And she's a member of a powerful organisation that operates from the shadows. I didn't expect to get her attention, and I really, really didn't want to get it in this manner."

"How did she take us down so easily?" asked Regent. "I mean, I missed some of it, but she was dancing between the raindrops, there."

"More to the point," Grue added, "how did _you_ take her down? She was in the dark, and she was _still_ ducking past my hits."

Amy felt her hands rubbing over her face. "This is the part of the conversation that I wasn't looking forward to," Michael muttered. He raised her voice. "She's a precog of sorts. She can look for a solution, and her power tells her the exact steps needed to reach it. _All of them_. So she didn't need to see you to beat you; her power told her what moves she needed to make. Perfectly and flawlessly."

"Okay, so how did _you_ beat _her?"_ Regent persisted. "Are you a precog after all?"

"No," Michael replied. "It's like I told you. I'm an extra-dimensional being. Kind of extruded into Amy's brain. It's why I can no-sell your power on her. I can't access her powers, but I can puppet her body. Contessa can't tell what I'm going to do, because the majority of me is outside the reality that her power can scan."

Even Skitter's head came up at that. The pressure of the disbelieving stares was almost palpable in nature.

"And you're just … _telling_ us that," Grue stated flatly. "Like it doesn't matter."

"Against you, it doesn't," Michael assured him, via Amy's voice. "Your power works on Amy's senses just fine, and I can't go outside her body. About the only other person here who might be affected is Dinah."

Dinah looked up at that. "My power can't sense you at all," she assured Amy – or rather, Michael. "Every time you speak, it's a surprise, because I'm expecting silence. Or for Amy to say something _different_."

"Okay, I'll bite," ventured Grue. "What's so important about keeping this woman alive?"

"For one, she's a great way to contact that organisation I told you about," Amy's voice told him. "For another, she's really important to keeping things from going to shit before the end of the world kicks off. And for another -"

"And for another," a familiar voice intruded on their gathering, "she's a friend of mine, so I'd really rather have her back alive."

* * *

Skitter raised her head. "Oh, shit," she whispered.

Amy felt her head bow for a moment. "Fuck," Michael announced through her. "It's Alexandria, isn't it? I'd know that tone anywhere."

Slowly, she turned; Alexandria was indeed hovering there, arms folded, surveying the group coldly.

"You may consider yourselves all under arrest," the Triumvirate hero announced. "If you run, I _will_ catch you. I don't promise not to injure you." She drifted closer. "What have you done to her? Is she even alive?"

Amy felt her chin being raised. "She was shot twice at close range with a low-calibre pistol. The damage was neutralised and she is stable."

"How did this even _happen?"_ snarled Alexandria. "How did you beat her power?" She scanned the group. "I've read your files; there's not a Trump among you."

"It's because of who and what I am," Amy heard herself say.

"Amy Dallon. Panacea." Alexandria shook her head. "You could not neutralise her power. Not unless you got into contact with her. And she would not let you."

Amy stood still. "Look deeper."

Alexandria's scrutiny was almost a felt thing. She drifted closer again. "The voice stress patterns, the mannerisms. You're not Panacea."

"Yes and no," Amy's voice told her. "I'm just visiting. She's here, but she gave permission to talk to you. We need to talk, you and I. And Contessa. And the others."

The older hero's lip curled, under the edge of the helmet that obscured half of Alexandria's face. "Whoever or whatever you are, you don't get to dictate terms to me."

"No, I don't," Michael agreed. "But I'm _asking_ you to agree to them. Because I know."

"Know? Know what?"

"About everything worth knowing," he told her steadily. "The dirty little secrets. The dirty _big_ secrets. About you, and Cauldron, how you go together, and why. And how to save the world. How to beat Zion."

Alexandria was jolted, just a little, Amy saw. But she rallied, spoke strongly. "Anyone can say anything. Tattletale there could say more with just a few hints. You're trying to avoid your just punishment. There's no way you could know as much as you say."

"There is, and I do." Amy's feet moved, stepping her forward. "You're really good at reading people. Read me. Tell me I'm lying."

"You spoofed Contessa's powers somehow." Alexandria's voice was … wary? "You could be spoofing mine. You could make me think you're telling the truth."

"You _really_ think that's likely?" Amy's voice was sharp. "Or do you just not want to face up to the fact that there's someone standing in front of you with all the answers, and you didn't come up with them first?"

"That depends," Alexandria riposted. "How _did_ you get the better of her? I've never seen it done, and I've known her for years."

"Since … oh, nineteen eighty-six, wasn't it? August, if I recall correctly." Alexandria's head came up at that. "Doctor Mother visited you in hospital. You didn't take much convincing."

"If you know that, you know why." Alexandria's voice was sharp. "All right, you've convinced me that you know more than you should. How did you beat Contessa?"

Amy's shoulders shrugged. "I'm an extra-dimensional being, about as far above Zion as he is above you, plugged into Amy's brain. Fortuna had as much chance as reading me as one of Skitter's bugs has of figuring out who you are under that mask."

"Whereas you already know."

"I do indeed."

"That's very dangerous information to have."

Amy's lips made a rude noise. "It's the least of it. I know shit that _you_ don't. That you'd sell your soul to get."

"What do you know?"

"Where Endbringers come from. Why they exist. What's likely to happen if you ever manage to kill one. How to stop them. And that's just for starters."

"Is this related to Scion – Zion – whatever you call him? Why did you call him that, anyway?"

Amy felt herself grin. "It's what he calls himself. The people who heard him speak got it wrong." Michael paused, then asked another question. "How come you turned up here, anyway?"

"They'd arranged to meet," Tattletale supplied. "Contessa missed the appointment, so Alexandria came looking."

_**Ah. Makes sense.**_

"This information." Alexandria seemed to get a grip on herself. "You'll share it?"

"Presuming conditions are met." Amy found herself meeting Alexandria's gaze steadily.

"Define 'conditions'." The older hero's voice was hard.

"The Undersiders get to go on their way. That's the first one."

"Hm. Why did Contessa come here?" Alexandria eyed Coil's body. "Because of him?"

"Yeah. Someone asked him where he bought his powers. I'd say he was going to spill the beans so that Cauldron would take notice of these guys. He's a dick like that."

"Who asked?" Alexandria's voice was steel-edged.

"Doesn't matter. They've learned the error of their ways." Amy's voice was just as hard. "The Undersiders get to go where they want. Hell, you could bring them in as allies. They're pretty resourceful."

"I'll consider it." There was no give, no surrender, in Alexandria's voice. "Next?"

"Amy and Vicky get to keep being ordinary cape teens. No surveillance, no following, no abductions."

Vicky turned to stare at Amy. _Oh yeah, not me in the driver's seat._

"All … right," acknowledged Alexandria. "Any more conditions?"

"Certain people need to die or be co-opted."

Amy felt her heart lurch. _What? No!_ Just casually ordering the deaths of people …

**_Sorry, but it's the way it's gotta be._**

Alexandria didn't even hesitate. "Who?"

Michael ticked off fingers as he spoke. "Jack Slash. Crawler. William Manton. Shatterbird. Teacher. Saint and the Dragonslayers." He paused. "That's that list for the moment. Then there's the ones who need to be gotten out of the situations they're in."

"You're asking a lot."

"I'm _offering_ a lot."

" … I'm listening."

"Canary needs to be pulled out of jail, for starters. Kill the court case. Bonesaw needs to be taken out of the Nine, cleared of all dangerous shit, and given lots of therapy. Purity needs to be offered a chance to make up for her crimes. Flechette needs to be transferred to Brockton Bay. Shadow Stalker needs to be booted into juvey as of about tomorrow afternoon."

Alexandria was staring at Amy. "You're insane. You have to be. I can't pull all that off."

"Sure you can," Tattletale assured her. "You'll have Contessa back on her feet. She can pull off _anything."_

"And doing all this will get us closer to being able to beat Scion?" Alexandria's voice was sceptical.

"It'll help lay the bare bones of the plan, sure," Amy heard herself say.

Alexandria frowned. "Very well. You've made your demands. Now I'm going to make mine."

"I'm listening."

"You will tell us _everything_ we need to know, at the _earliest possible convenience._ How to beat Scion. What you know about the Endbringers. _Everything."_

"May fifteenth."

"What?"

"Leviathan is due to hit here on May the fifteenth. We've got one month to stop that from happening."

"No." Alexandria shook her head. "You can't know that. Nobody's been able to predict an Endbringer event, ever."

"Dinah." Amy turned to look at the girl. "The Boardwalk, by May the twentieth. Useable, or utterly trashed?"

Dinah paused. "Ninety-three point four six one five percent chance that it is wrecked beyond use."

Amy's hands dusted one another off. "And so."

"You're coming with me, now." Alexandria approached Amy. "This information needs to be verified."

"No. We are not. I'm going to get Contessa back on her feet, then each of us here is going to assure you that we're not going to spread the word, then we're all walking out of here. You get to do whatever you want with Coil and the subdued minions around the base."

"I don't think you were listening. We _need_ the information. _Now."_

"And you'll get it. _At my earliest convenience._ Which is not right now." Amy heard herself fake a yawn. "I'm tired. I need my beauty sleep."

"This is no time to play games!"

"And it's no time to come the heavy." Amy's body stepped up to Alexandria. "You'll get the information in good time. And if just _one_ of these people is inconvenienced in an attempt to get it out of me, I'll give you _wrong_ data. So play nice, and you get all the cookies."

_**If she grabs us, get ready to paralyse her.**_

_I'm not sure if my power works on her._

**Now****_ you tell me._**

_I didn't think I'd be facing __**Alexandria**__._

**_Fair point. Well, do your best._**

Alexandria was studying Amy's face. "I think -"

* * *

What she thought was never made clear, because at that moment, a phone went off.

_**Is that yours?**_

_No. It's not Vicky's, either._

"Okay," growled Grue. "Who forgot to put their phone on silent?"

"Him." It was Dinah, pointing at Coil's corpse. A dim light could be seen, flashing through the thin cloth at his hip.

The Undersiders traded glances; _you get it. No, __**you**__ get it. _Nobody moved, until Tattletale grunted in annoyance and stepped forward. Gingerly, trying not to touch the cooling corpse, she levered the phone out of what appeared to be a pocket set into the side of the costume.

Pressing the answer icon, she held the phone before Coil's dead face and schooled her voice into as masculine a grunt as she could manage. "Yeah?"

The phone lit up with an image that Amy couldn't see from her angle. _"It's me. Noelle. No-one's put any food in for me. Could you tell someone to hurry it up? I'm getting really hungry in here."_

Tattletale made Coil's head nod, then she cut the call. She turned to the rest of the group. "I've got a really bad feeling about that."

_**Oh fuck.**_

_What?_

Amy heard herself clearing her throat. "You're right to be concerned. Remember that Case 53 I told you about?"

"What Case 53?" asked Alexandria sharply.

Amy went to the rail, leaned over, and pointed at a largish metal door on the lower level; it looked to have been assembled in sections. "In there. She's pretty big by now. She absorbs capes that touch her – that _does_ include you – and spits out twisted, evil versions. Just as powerful. And guess what – she's _hungry."_

Alexandria absorbed this. "So, can that door hold her?"

"Not if she doesn't want it to."

"How dangerous are we talking?"

Michael waggled Amy's hand. "A-class to S-class."

"Fuck _me,"_ muttered Grue. And that seemed to adequately sum up the situation.

In the silence that followed, the phone began to ring again.

* * *

End of Part Twelve


	13. Chapter 13

**I, Panacea**

* * *

Part Thirteen: Out of the Frying Pan

* * *

Constructed of raw concrete and steel girders, there was nothing in the base to mute the sound of the phone. Its ringtone echoed harshly from overhead, from the nearby wall. Wrists still bound to the armrests, its very recently dead owner lolled in his chair. Tattletale held the phone like a poisonous snake; she obviously didn't want to answer it again.

_**Fuck. This has the potential to go very bad, very fast.**_

_What do we do?_

Amy felt herself fall to her knees beside the woman Michael had referred to as 'Contessa'. _**Heal her all the way. Wake her up. She'll grasp what's going on. She'll know how to fix it.**_

_What if her idea of 'fix it' is to shut us all up?_

Tattletale held the phone in front of Coil's head once more. She pressed the Answer button, and gestured to Grue. He stepped forward and spoke gruffly. "What?"

_**She can't be sure that'll work, not with me in your head. Whatever solution she comes up with cannot involve me. And by extension, you.**_

A tinny voice came over the phone; Amy couldn't hear what was being said.

_What if she just decides to kill you? And by extension, me?_

_**She's used to depending on her power. You saw how we took her down before. The only way she can beat us is if **_**you're**_** controlling your body.**_

Internally, she grimaced. _This does not make me any happier, at all._

_**Sorry, but emergency situation. Soon as we're done here, I'm out of the driver's seat.**_

"Why are you bothering me with this?" growled Grue. "You have protocols. Use them."

_It can't come soon enough for me._

_**Me neither. Trust me on this.**_

A pair of booted feet came to rest beside Amy; involuntarily, she glanced up. Alexandria was looking down at her. She pointed at Contessa, and her lips formed words. _Heal. Her._

_**Please, do this, and I'll do my best to make sure that you don't have to heal anyone for as long as possible.**_

_Give me control back._

He didn't hesitate; she felt control flowing back to her. Taking a deep breath, she laid her hands on Contessa's wrists. The damage had been closed off, the blood loss curtailed. Now she completed her repairs on the internal organs, scavenged more blood from waste products, and stimulated the nervous system to wake her up.

Contessa came awake in a blur of motion. Amy was spun around; in another instant, her hands were trapped behind her, an arm about her throat. There was no skin touching hers, only cloth. She tried to gasp, could barely get any air; the arm around her throat contracted warningly. She looked toward Grue and Lisa, but the blonde was whispering to her teammate, and not really paying attention.

_Can't … breathe …_

_**Anything you try to do, she'll counter instantly. It's what she does.**_

_And you're the idiot who wanted me to heal her._

_**She's still necessary. We just have to get her on side.**_

Her vision was darkening; Alexandria was standing between her and the other members of the Undersiders. She tried to struggle, but it was as he said; no matter what she tried, the woman behind her was stronger and could anticipate her every action.

_What do I do?_

_**Let me back in control.**_

_I don't want to be your helpless __**puppet! **_Her internal voice was a scream of rage.

_**Okay then, bash the back of your head into her nose.**_

_Won't she anticipate that?_

_**Would you have done it normally?**_

_No._

_**Well then.**_

She didn't waste another second; her lungs were labouring for breath as it was. Swinging her head forward, she lashed backward, and felt it strike something that crunched. The grip came free, just for a moment, and Amy gulped oxygen. She yanked her arm clear, grabbed for a wrist, and was countered once more.

_God dammit._

_**She's anticipating you again.**_

_What do I do?_

_**Kick off, fall over backward on her.**_

_That's going to hurt._

_**She certainly won't expect you to do it.**_

Gritting her teeth, Amy shoved off from the floor. Taken off balance, Contessa couldn't hold them both upright, and they both fell backward to the grating. Once more, she felt the iron grip loosen, then begin to tighten once more.

_**Elbow her in the guts!**_

She rammed her elbow into Contessa's stomach, pulled away from the clutching grip, and rolled free. Standing, panting, pushing her hair back from her eyes, she glared at the dark-haired woman. Her shoulder hurt where it had been wrenched in the fall, but she didn't care.

"Stand down, Contessa." Alexandria's voice was calm. "The situation has changed."

Contessa, also getting to her feet, wiped blood from her nose, and stared steadily at Amy. "She's an anomaly," she replied, in a matter-of-fact tone. "She disrupts my power."

"Not her," Alexandria explained. "Something _within_ her."

_**Hey, I resemble that remark.**_

Amy rubbed her throat; it was still sore from where Contessa had been compressing it. Michael hadn't taken control again, for which she was grateful. "He's a _person," _she reminded the two women. "He's helped me. Saved me. Shown me things. And he wants to save the world. He says you can help him."

Of the two, Alexandria seemed most taken aback. _"He_ says _we_ can help _him?"_

_**Tell them that I'd really rather they didn't get in the way.**_

Amy took a deep breath. Her heart still pounded in her ears, but it was starting to ease up. "It'll be a lot easier, he says, if you don't get in the way." _Could you even __**do**__ it, if they did get in the way?_

_**Extremely doubtful. But I want them wondering exactly what I **_**can**_** do.**_

_Won't they just read me?_

_**Not if they're trying to read me, instead.**_ She caught the flash of an internal grin.

_Okay then. Okay then._ She fought to catch her breath, to string two thoughts together. _Why didn't Alexandria help her?_

_**Not sure. Ask her.**_

Drawing herself up, Amy faced Alexandria. "Why didn't you help her?"

A cool gaze surveyed her from behind the steel mask of Alexandria's helmet. "What makes you think I wanted her to win?"

"Okay, if you _didn't_ want her to win, why did you let that fight happen?"

"I was curious," replied the older hero. "I've never actually seen her lose a fight. But you weren't beating her as easily as you could have. He was advising you rather than controlling you, wasn't he?"

Amy nodded jerkily, then she glared at Contessa. "If you ever try that again, I'll tell him to beat you to a _pulp._ Got me?"

Contessa's eyes widened slightly. "I understand," she replied. "You healed me. Saved my life. Thank you."

Amy was still panting. "Thank _him,"_ she replied shortly. "He was extremely insistent."

"Amy!" It was Tattletale, holding up the phone.

"What?"

"It was one of Coil's men in an offsite location. They got a distress call that one of the guys here sent out. He asked Grue for a code. I think I got it right, but I'm not sure that he bought it. What's likely to happen?"

_**Shit.**_

_What?_

_**Worst case, self destruct. Coil had a habit of leaving behind fuck-you things like that. Which reminds me. We're gonna need a DNA sample.**_

_What? Why?_

_**Because we might need him back at some point.**_

_I don't know what you think I can do, but -_

"Amy?" Tattletale was still waiting.

"Uh, maybe set off the base self-destruct?"

Contessa's eyes focused. "Doorway," she muttered. A portal opened in midair, and she stepped through. It closed behind her.

_What the fuck?_

_**It's how she gets around. As for Coil, I know **_**you**_** can't clone him, but that's not to say that nobody else can.**_

_Wait, I want to talk about what she just did._

_**She had someone open a portal for her. Like I said, it's how she and Alexandria and the rest of that organisation get around. One step transportation.**_

_That must be useful. Where did she go?_

_**Probably to make sure that nobody sets off the base self-destruct.**_

_Why didn't Alexandria go with her?_

_**You did see her fight, yeah? With anyone but me or a very few others involved, she's like that all the time.**_

_Ah._

She became aware that Alexandria was watching her closely.

"What?" she asked defensively.

"You're having some sort of discussion in there, aren't you?"

"I … am, yeah." She nodded at Coil's body. "Can you put that on ice for me?"

"Why? Can you bring him back?"

"No." She tapped the side of her head. "But he thinks we can do something similar."

"Hm. Interesting. Yes, we can preserve the body. Who shot him?"

"I didn't see." The evasion came easily to her.

"Did anyone say who did it?"

"I'd rather not say."

"Why was he shot?"

_**Because he was a manipulative arsehole who would have been as safe to handle as a bucket of warm 'foof'.**_

_Warm what?_

_**F-O-O-F. Look it up sometime. She's waiting for an answer.**_

"Uh, because he was planning to assassinate some of us. And family."

"And you know this how?"

"I told them," Dinah's voice sounded at her shoulder. "I saw the percentages. Coil would have been too hard to control. People would have died."

Alexandria's lip twisted. "Still, murder is very … final."

_**Tell that to his victims.**_

Amy's chin came up. "He says Coil had lots of victims. They would have found murder very final, as well."

"He was potentially very useful. Killing him was a bad idea."

_**In the short run, he's a hindrance. In the long run, I have an idea how to get him back before the fight against Zion.**_

_I've been wanting to ask you about that. Scion's the bad guy in all this? I always thought he was a hero._

_**He's doing it out of boredom. When he decides to break things, he won't do it small.**_

_Oh, crap. Okay. _"Michael says he knows how to get him back before we have to fight Zion."

Alexandria's gaze, even from behind the steel mask, was almost laser-like in its intensity. "You know about that as well?"

_How are we going to fight __**him**__? It's impossible._

_**Oh, it's possible. Just very, very hard.**_

"I, uh, just found out," Amy stammered. "But yes, I do now."

_**Tell her I know how.**_

_How do __**you **__know how?_

_**Because I've seen it done. But don't tell her that bit.**_

"Uh, he also says he knows how to beat him. Zion."

"And you believe this." Alexandria's gaze was unwavering.

"He says it. I believe it."

"You're relaying his words. I'd like to speak to him myself."

_**You don't have to if you don't want to.**_

"I, uh, I'd prefer to stay in control, and pass on what he says."

"Why?"

"Because he's been in my head for less than a day, and I'm _already_ sick of being used as someone else's hand puppet!" Amy burst out. "Unless we absolutely have to do it differently, I'm going to keep control of my body. Okay?"

Alexandria gave her a long, cool appraisal. " … very well," she agreed. "I can work with this."

_**Wow, holy crap. You just faced up to Alexandria.**_

_God, don't remind me._

_**Uh, hand puppet?**_

_That's what it feels like from time to time._

_**Sorry.**_

_Well, you're giving me control now, so I'm good. For the moment. But I hope that you end up in your own body at some point._

_**Why?**_

_So I can smack the crap out of you for each time you've just taken over, without asking first._

… _**that's fair. I think she's waiting for an answer.**_

_Okay. _Amy re-ran the conversation in her head.

"Uh, good. So, uh what else did you want to know?"

"Many things," the older hero noted. "But some are much more important than others. May I ask as to who has control over who controls your body?"

_**Go ahead and tell her.**_

"Uh, he does. But he's letting me be in control for the moment. I … he had to grab control a few times, and I'm not pleased with him. So he's backing off."

"You're being very matter-of-fact about this. I don't know that I would be so laissez-faire about someone controlling my body like that. Especially when I had no say in the matter."

_**That's because she's a control freak. You're not.**_

Amy cleared her throat. "I, uh, spent a good part of my life being told what to do. He's uh, helping me. Telling me stuff. Letting me sort things out in my head. Explaining things to me. Giving me advice. And when I ask him to, he backs off. I don't like being controlled, but I _can_ see that it's been necessary. At least some of the time."

"And his ultimate aim is to save the world, help defeat Scion."

The change in direction caught Amy off-guard, and she floundered a little. "Uh, yes. That's what he says. That's what I believe."

"And after that? Does he spend the rest of your life in your head?"

_**No. Hopefully I get to go home after this.**_

"He says he wants to go home after that. He's very definite about it."

"Where is he from?"

_That's a good question. Where __**are**__ you from?_

_**It would take far too long to explain right now. For now, you can call me a 'BRB'.**_

_BRB?_

_**Benevolent Random Being. It's a kind of shorthand term.**_

_Oh. Right. You're going to have to explain that one, too, sometime._

_**One of these days, sure.**_

_I'll hold you to that._ Aloud, she went on. "He finds it hard to explain. But he means well. I'm pretty sure about that."

"That's good, because I'm very interested in learning how we are to defeat Scion."

_**One step at a time. First, let's deal with the problem in front of us. Noelle.**_

_Oh, the Case 53?_

_**Yeah, her.**_

"Uh, first, he wants to deal with Noelle."

"And how does he intend to do that?"

Amy listened to Michael's explanation. "Okay," she began after he had finished, "if I get this right, Cauldron sells powers to people with enough money. But there's also usually favours involved. Because not many people have enough money for the powers they want. So there's a repo clause. Sorry, that's how he put it. If they try to renege, you remove their powers. You have a cape who does that for you."

Alexandria's lips thinned. "I do not appreciate having Cauldron's secrets broadcast to the world."

On Michael's urging, Amy turned to the others. "Guys, are you going to tell anyone about this?"

Rachel, involved in checking Brutus over for lingering damage, shook her head. Vicky, eyes wide, also shook her head. Each of the others signalled negation as well.

Amy turned back to Alexandria. "He says you're going to have to shut down operations anyway. And no more … abduction of people from other worlds?" She stared at the Protectorate hero. "You _do_ that? That's _horrible!"_

Alexandria gritted her teeth. "I would advise you not telling any more. My colleagues may decide to take unilateral action."

"In which case you get _nothing,"_ Amy retorted. "He said to tell you that. We'll keep your dirty secrets, so long as you dismantle what you're doing. And you get information regarding Endbringers first." She paused, listening to Michael. "Saturday. I – we – whatever, I'll be in touch."

"That's two days away," Alexandria snapped. "Unacceptable."

"You've been flailing around trying to get a handle on the problem for the last twenty-some years," Amy replied, repeating Michael's words with relish. "You can stand to wait another two days." She paused again. "Also, I want Doorway privileges."

"Out of the question!"

Amy folded her arms and waited.

Alexandria clenched her fists so tightly that skin squeaked on skin. Then she breathed deeply, inhaling slowly, exhaling smoothly. Once more centred, she gave Amy a level stare. "Why do you need this?"

Amy spread her hands. "Because he wants it. Now, are we getting access to the power remover cape?" She paused. "Did you really call him the Removalist?"

"It wasn't my decision," Alexandria replied. "Very well. This Case 53 is as dangerous as you say? How did that happen?"

Amy listened for a moment. "Well, apparently, the power formula was shared between Noelle and one of her friends."

Some of Alexandria's face was hidden by the mask, but her look of disquiet told Amy how bad that must really be. "Idiots," she muttered. "How did that happen?"

"Simurgh," Amy repeated. "Madison. They found some formulas in a lab that was broken open. Took them. Some of them were injured, so they drank them to heal up." She shrugged. "Gamers."

"I remember that attack," Alexandria noted. "They were there?"

"They were," agreed Amy. "The Simurgh set it up so that they'd do exactly what they did. Pieces put in motion. Only now I'm here to change how they move on the board."

"Are you sure she isn't predicting you?" Alexandria looked at her closely.

Amy didn't copy Michael's chuckle, but she smiled. "Certain of it. He says that she can predict _me_ but not _him_." She raised her chin. "Do I get Doorway privileges?"

"You can _earn_ them," Alexandria told her shortly. "Once I know how to kill the Endbringers."

"Fine," Amy replied. "Now, the Removalist?"

"One moment." Alexandria began moving off down the catwalk.

There was a loud metallic crash. Everyone turned to look down at the door that hid the Case 53. It was still vibrating, and concrete dust was settling around it.

"Make that a _short_ moment," Amy advised her.

* * *

Noelle was hungry. Hunger gnawed at her very being. She needed to eat, to support this gross body that had been inflicted upon her. If it didn't eat, regularly, it got restless, and did things outside of her control. Like eating things anyway. Or people. All those people in New York, and the other places. She hadn't _meant_ for that to happen. Her body had decided that it needed to eat, and so it had eaten.

She hated feeling helpless like that, a prisoner in her own body. It reminded her of the dark days, before she met Krouse and fell in love with him, when she had the eating disorder. Convinced she was fat, she would starve herself for days to become slim, become pretty, become a better person. But there was no end goal there; every time she looked in the mirror, every bump and lump on her body – even her ribs and pelvis – constituted excess weight to be shed.

She had to keep going, to stay the course. Even when hunger pangs wracked her in the middle of the night, she couldn't bring herself to eat, because eating led to being overweight, and she wanted to be slim. Even when she did eat, she would sneak off to the bathroom as soon as possible, and bring it all up again. Food was _bad._

It had taken an intervention by her parents to break her out of the destructive cycle. Her father had taken a leave of absence from work, and they had sat over her for days, making sure that she ate, preventing her from throwing up again, getting nutrition into her. She had hated them, raged against the tyranny, but she had had no choice in the matter. Gradually, she had gotten better, felt her mind clearing. And one day, she had woken up, eaten breakfast, and had felt no impulse to dash to the bathroom to get rid of it.

This wasn't to say that she was cured, of course. The feelings came back every now and again, but now that she had learned to recognise them, she was able to fight them, with or without the assistance of her parents. It had been a long, hard road, but she was making progress.

And then she had gotten into gaming, had started with the group. It had provided an interest for her, and she had met Krouse. Initially unimpressed by him, she had tolerated his advances, while rising to her own position of leader of the team. He had been an outsider with talent, while Cody, already on the team, was skilled but not advancing very fast. Cody was also interested in her, and she liked him, but the spark just wasn't there.

When she finally admitted to herself that Krouse was more than just a friend, it was like turning a corner. He liked her for _herself,_ for her body as well as her mind. He made it clear that he found her attractive, and this put the finishing touches on her recovery; she would never starve herself again, just to try to look pretty. Krouse's compliments made sure of that.

And now … now she _couldn't_ starve herself. Her other half, the part of her body that had a mind of its own, would seek food, whether it be garbage, animals, or even people, if she went too long without eating. The dark irony was all too clear to her; here she was, stuck in a wholly new version of a destructive eating disorder. One that she couldn't break out of. There was no fixing this.

_I wish I could die._ But she couldn't. She'd had tried. It had rarely turned out well. And now, she was stuck in this claustrophobic vault, who knew how far underground, while Krouse lived elsewhere with the rest of the Travellers, and visited far too rarely. Coil brought in so-called experts, who treated her with wholly understandable wariness, but never returned with anything other than bad news and shaken heads. The crime boss tried to keep her optimistic, but her level of hope dwindled each day.

_At least he feeds me._ Whole pigs, fresh from what she assumed to be a slaughterhouse, would normally have made her feel squeamish. Now, her lower body took them and consumed them with almost terrifying greed. But the amount he was feeding her wasn't enough, not any more. She was still hungry after a meal, still empty inside. He wasn't cutting her rations, so her body was needing more. _How much more is enough?_ She feared that the question had no answer.

Her lower body moved again, restlessly. She tried to still it, to calm it. It kept moving, rammed against the steel door that protected the rest of the base from her. The door rang like a bell, but held. She suspected that if she truly wanted to get through it, she could. Little could stop her if she really wanted to leave.

* * *

"_Noelle."_

It was an unfamiliar voice on the intercom. She leaned down toward the pickup. "Who – who's there? Where's Coil?"

"_Noelle, my name's Amy Dallon. You may have heard of me as Panacea."_

She recognised the picture on the screen now; it did look like the healer known as Panacea. Noelle had only seen glimpses of her on TV; up close, or as close as the intercom screen would show her, she looked … ordinary. Messy brown hair, a smudge of something on her nose. Her white robes were absent; she wore dark clothing.

"Panacea? Did – did Coil bring you in, to help me?" She felt a huge surge of hope. Panacea could heal _anything. _She'd even heard that the New Wave member could cure old age, although she tended to discount that particular idea. But wounds, amputations, even cancer; the teenage girl on the other side of the door had dealt with them all. _Surely she can fix what's wrong with me._

"_Uh, no, sorry. Not quite. I'm told that your power would trump mine, so things would get really nasty if I tried. But there's something else we're going to do. Something that's absolutely guaranteed to get you out of that vault, and back with Krouse."_

"Absolutely guaranteed? What are you going to do?"

"_Me, personally? I'm going to save your life after he finishes taking your powers away."_

"Who what now? Take my powers away? Who's going to do that?"

"_Just get to the back of the vault and close your eyes and cover your ears, okay?"_

"Why do I have to close my eyes?" Noelle was starting to get a little edgy. This didn't sound right.

"_So you don't attack anyone. Please?"_

"How do I know you're telling the truth?"

"_Noelle, please."_ There was a pause. _"Before this all happened, Cody was pissed because you were dropping him from the team in favour of Francis. Cody was accusing you of doing it because he's your boyfriend."_

Noelle's eyes went wide. "How do you even _know_ this?"

"_I know a great many things, Noelle. Do as I say, please?"_

"Okay. I'll do it." She left the intercom, backed away from it until she reached the far end of the hated vault. Taking a deep breath, she closed her eyes, and then called out, "Okay!"

Distantly, she heard the vault door locks disengaging. Clamping her hands over her ears, she concentrated on keeping her eyes shut, even the ones decorating her lower body. That body wanted to move, to see what was invading her space, but she kept a careful grip on it.

There may have been a voice, but she didn't hear what the words were. And then something happened. It was the weirdest sensation, washing through her whole body. Her strength ebbed, and she felt numbness, creeping in from her extremities. At the same time, the impulses of her lower body began to fade and die.

And that was when the pain hit her. Pain worse than anything she had ever felt before. Pain worse than when she had been injured in the toppled building. Her legs, the monstrous legs that now supported her bloated, grotesque body, gave way, and she felt herself slumping to the floor.

She took her hands from her ears, opened her eyes. Panacea stood there, alone. But she could not even begin to wonder how the girl had done this, what she'd done to her. The pain ravaging her body, tearing at the internal organs that she had not needed to use for so long, precluded all else.

"Help me!" she screamed. "Help me! It hurts!"

And then the vault door opened once more, and a second figure entered. Similarly dark-clad, the newcomer picked up Panacea and flew her up to where Noelle's torso was situated atop the mass of dying flesh that had once been her lower body. Cool fingers traced her brow, and the pain went away.

The _world_ went away.

* * *

"Is she going to be all right?"

Amy ignored the question; she concentrated on working on Noelle. Lying on the concrete floor beside what had once been the mass of what Michael called Echidna, the girl's lower torso and legs were only vaguely roughed out. Amy's concentration was mainly on keeping her alive. Her heart and lungs were in poor shape, and her digestive system had almost totally shut down; it was obvious that the lower body had done all the eating and breathing for her once it had started to warp out of control.

Finally, she had the girl's breathing and heart rate to a point where she liked them; she started sculpting the rest of her body out of the mass of flesh that was currently standing in for her legs.

_Digestive system, bladder … check. Reproductive system … check. Vagina, anus, urethra … check. _She paused. _Do you have any idea how tall she was?_

No answer.

_Hey!_

_**What? I was, you know, carefully not paying attention.**_

_How tall was she?_

_**Buggered if I know. Make her, say, as tall as you are.**_

_What if she's a different height than that?_

_**I sincerely doubt that she will complain.**_

_Okay, good point._

_**Oh, wow.**_

_What? I thought you weren't paying attention._

_**You know, you could make her into a mermaid right now.**_

_Not funny._

_**Yeah, but the look on her face.**_

_Okay, a little bit funny, but I'm not going there. Now go back to not paying attention._

_**Going.**_

Taking a deep breath, she kept on going. The legs separated, bones forming, then muscles over the top. Fat deposits, then skin. The feet were a little difficult to get exact – when she grew someone's limb back, she usually had the other one to use as a template. "Vicky."

"Uh, what?" Vicky looked up from where she'd been watching the process with an expression of horrified fascination.

"Give me your hand."

"What? Why?"

"I need to copy your feet."

Vicky blinked. "Oh. Okay." She extended her hand, and Amy took it. Immediately, the knowledge of her body flooded into Amy's mind. She zeroed in on the feet, and began reworking Noelle's feet to match. With Vicky's anatomy as a template, she went back and checked on her other work, fixing a few minor errors, then checked all the way through. Everything looked good.

"Okay," she decided, standing up and stretching mightily. "Let's see how she goes. Vicky, you got the pants?"

"I did indeed," Vicky replied, pulling the garment in question from her shoulder. Amy didn't ask where she'd gotten a pair in Noelle's size; she simply presumed that there was a relatively slim guard on the base, now missing pants. _Not my problem._

Together, they managed to work the pants on to Noelle's legs.

"This is harder than it looks," grunted Vicky, rolling Noelle's limp body on to her side so that Amy could pull the pants all the way up. "I can bench a cement mixer, and I have trouble putting pants on an unconscious person. How weird is that?"

"'Dead weight' isn't just a phrase," Amy informed her, fastening the waistband. "It's the difference between carrying a hundred pound iron weight, and a hundred pound flexible sack of water."

She reached out and placed her hand on Noelle's forehead; a minor exertion of her power, and Noelle's eyes opened. She gasped.

"What – what's going on?" she asked. "I can't move."

"I turned off the neural impulses that let you move on your own, so you wouldn't twitch while I was fixing you," Amy told her. "I'm turning them back on now."

Slowly, she reinstated Noelle's voluntary movements, and at her request, the girl lifted her right and left arms. And then, hesitantly, she began to move her legs; a little at first, and then with more and more confidence.

"Why is it so hard to move them properly?" she asked, as Amy and Vicky helped her to her feet.

"Because you didn't _have_ legs," Amy explained. "I made these ones for you. All the nerves are connected up, and the muscles are in the right place. You've just got to learn how to use them again."

"Oh. Okay." Noelle tried to stand properly, and tottered. "Wow. I think I'll be a while."

"You'll get there," Amy advised her.

Vicky pushed open the vault door, and they exited, with Noelle supported between them. Amy handed off the girl to Vicky, and approached Alexandria, who was waiting with the Undersiders outside the vault.

"Well done," the older hero told her. "She's healthy?"

"Probably do with a few good meals," Amy replied. "But healthy enough. You remember the list of people I gave you?"

"I do," agreed Alexandria, with the slightest flaring of her nostrils.

"There's an American citizen in China. His name's Cody. He was inducted into the Yàngbǎn. He also harbours a hatred of Accord. We want Accord alive."

"If he's in the Yàngbǎn, he's not coming here any time soon," Alexandria noted.

"Endbringer battle," Amy pointed out.

"He'd be so stupid?"

"He would."

"Do you want him rescued or eliminated?"

"Rescued is better. He could be helpful against Zion."

"And so could Accord," agreed Alexandria.

"Once you pull him from China, he becomes much less of a threat."

"How does that work?"

Amy paused as Michael explained. "Okay, he apparently … there's a cape who can spread powers among the whole squad, and another who can amplify them. If he defects during the fight, he'll have all their powers for a while, even after he leaves the squad. And he'll use this to kill Accord. And Trickster and Noelle too, if he gets the chance."

"I'll see what I can do."

_**You mean, see what Contessa can do.**_

_Shush._

"Oh, and one more thing."

Alexandria's lips tightened. "I'm getting a little unhappy with your demands."

"Okay, fine. Later, then."

At Michael's urging, she turned away from Alexandria.

_What are we doing?_

_**She doesn't show a damn thing that she doesn't want anyone to see. She's putting on a bluff of anger to get us to apologise, to back down.**_

_She is?_

_**She's really good at playing the political game. Keep walking.**_

Amy kept walking. She was almost up to Tattletale when Alexandria called out from behind her. "Wait!"

Slowly, she stopped and turned. "Yes?"

"What is it that you want?"

Amy spoke slowly, pausing between sentences to let Michael catch up. "The ABB, in custody. You already have Lung. Bakuda is gearing up for a terror strike on the city. Oni Lee will be helping. It's all aimed toward busting Lung from where he's being held. She's also got the wherewithal to build a bomb that could EMP about a fifth of the United States. And probably some of Canada as well. Once Lung gets out, he'll tell her to build it. So you might want to look into that as well."

"Do you need _them_ alive?" Alexandria's lip curled.

She hesitated. "Bakuda, yes. Oni Lee, he really doesn't care."

"_Good._ Doorway to Bakuda."

The doorway opened, and she stepped through; it closed behind her.

_Did you just sentence Oni Lee to death?_

_**He's a murderous bastard. Do you really have a problem with this?**_

_I … need to think about this for a bit._

_**Trust me, there are those who improve the world, those who make no difference, and those who are better off not being part of it. Oni Lee fits the third category.**_

_Yes, but … I still don't even like the idea of kill orders. I've spent far too much of my time helping heal people._

_**Sorry, but I can't take the chance that he won't try to screw up saving the world. Because some people are dicks that way.**_

_You're kidding, right?_

_**I wish I was.**_

_So what do we do now?_

_**Go home, I guess.**_

_What about Noelle? And Dinah?_

_**Oh, right. Um. Okay then. Let's get Dinah back to her parents. You've got her cleaned up?**_

Amy knew he wasn't referring to the precog's outer appearance. _Yes. A few cravings, maybe, but they'll pass in a day or two._ She paused. _And Noelle?_

**_We should get her back to the Travellers, but I have no idea where they are._**

_Why don't we ask Tattletale?_

A moment of silence. _**Okay, new rule? You're the brains of this operation.**_

She felt herself smiling; it wasn't his influence, but a genuine impulse. _Thanks._

* * *

At this time of night, the street was deserted. Lonely streetlights left pools of illumination on the pavement. The Undersiders stood together, the oversized dogs behind Bitch, their breath steaming gently in the cool night air.

"I really appreciate this," Amy told Tattletale. She looked at Skitter. "Thanks for putting your weight behind this, too."

The bug controller was quiet. Finally, she muttered, "I can't believe I … "

Amy put her arms around Skitter and hugged her. "Trust me, the man was a danger to you. I'm told that if things went as normal, he would try to kill you at least once, and put your father in danger as well. That's even _without_ assassination attempts."

"Still doesn't make me feel much better."

"Well, any time you want to talk about it, I'm here, okay?"

"Hey, hey, me too," Tattletale reminded them.

"You're not much help," Skitter told her with a burst of her old spirit. "You wanted to shoot him too."

"I'm glad I didn't know he was dead," Noelle remarked. "I might have gotten angry then."

"Yes," agreed Amy. "You would have. It wouldn't have been pretty."

"How do you know?" asked Noelle, frowning.

Tattletale chuckled. "It's a thing she does." She turned her head. "I think this might be yours."

The station wagon slowed as it neared them, then pulled to a halt some ten yards away. Both front doors opened, and costumed figures stepped out. One was just placing a top hat on his head, and the other wore a square mask.

"Okay, you've got us here," called the one in the top hat. "State your business."

In answer, Noelle tottered out from the group. She was still having trouble walking, but she was doing her best. "Krouse!" she called. "It's me! I'm healed! I'm better!"

The top-hatted figure stared, then started running. The two came together in a hug that was more of a controlled collision than anything else. At first they just held one another, and then they kissed, fiercely and passionately. Amy turned away, uncomfortable.

_**Yeah, it's kinda like that, isn't it?**_

_I have no idea what you mean._

_**Sure you don't. Might want to blow your nose.**_

Pulling out a handkerchief, Amy did so. _Doesn't mean anything. I probably picked up a cold tonight. It's not exactly warm out._

**_Pull the other one. I know about your immune system. The cold virus is your bitch._**

_Oh, shush._

There was a tap on her shoulder; she turned. Trickster, the man in the top hat, stood with one arm supporting Noelle. His face was hidden behind a mask; hers had tears running down it.

"Thanks," he told her hoarsely. "You've – we owe you. Big time."

Amy smiled. "It's nothing. I prefer Noelle like this to what she was before." She paused. "I, uh, didn't have anything to compare her to, uh, down there, so I basically winged it."

They looked at each other, then Noelle giggled nervously. "Well, we've got time to work it out now. Again."

Trickster nodded. "We do." He held out his hand; Amy clasped it. "We'll see you around."

"See you then." Amy watched them walk back toward the car.

_**Uh, didn't you -**_

_Shut up! I'm not going to tell him that I modeled some parts on my sister when I had to guess!_

_**Shutting up now.**_

_Thank you._

* * *

"We can take it from here, guys."

Grue nodded at her. "Okay then. It's been a night, all right."

Amy nodded to him, then turned to Tattletale and Skitter. "Thanks again. I appreciate it."

"Hey, don't I get thanks too?" asked Regent. "I turned up too!"

"Reluctantly, yes, but you turned up," Amy agreed. "So thanks. And Bitch?"

The auburn-haired girl looked up. "What?"

"Thanks for letting me ride your dogs."

Bitch looked away with a grunt.

_**Pretty sure that meant 'you're welcome'.**_

_Probably._

She stood back with Vicky and Dinah as the Undersiders mounted their dogs. Tattletale leaned down from Brutus. "Sure we can't keep the base?"

Amy shook her head. "Already made the call to the PRT. Be happy you got the hard drive."

The blonde wrinkled her nose. "You're no fun."

"I'm here to save the world, not have fun."

"Whatever." Tattletale rolled her eyes. "See you around. Let me know if you want any more supervillains taken down."

"Well, Skidmark's been causing problems recently … "

"Never mind, I retract the offer."

Briefly, they shared a chuckle, and then Bitch clicked her tongue. The dogs started moving, loping off down the road at a remarkable turn of pace. Amy turned to Dinah. "So, ready to go inside now?"

"You sure my parents will want me?" The tone tore at her heart.

_**They will. I guarantee it.**_

"I know they will." Taking the younger girl by the hand, she led her to what looked like a recently-repaired front door, and knocked, using the heavy iron knocker.

There was no answer, so she knocked again.

"Maybe they're not home," quavered Dinah.

"Of course they are," Amy assured her. This time, for variety, she pressed the doorbell.

* * *

Eventually, footsteps could be heard approaching the door, and then there was a fumbling at the lock. The door opened on what looked like a heavy chain, and a suspicious voice called out through the crack. "Who's there?"

"Daddy?" asked Dinah.

A moment of frozen silence passed.

" … Dinah?"

"Daddy, it's me. I'm all right. The superheroes have brought me back."

"If this is some sort of trick, by god, I'll … " With a click, the porch light came on. Dinah stood full in the brightness.

The door closed, and then opened once more, devoid of the chain. A man in his late thirties, or early forties, looked out at us. "My god, Dinah, it's you," he gasped.

"Who is it?" Amy heard from back in the house.

"Anna!" he called. "Come quick! Dinah's back!"

"Dinah?" Hurrying footsteps culminated in a nightgown-clad woman, who engulfed Dinah in a hug; her father hugged them both. Amy smiled at the reunion, then tilted her head, signalling Vicky that they should go.

However, they only made it a little way down the path before Dinah's father came out to them; her mother was leading her inside, telling her that she'd make her favourite cocoa drink …

"Who are you?" he asked. "What happened to her? Who kidnapped her?"

Amy blinked. "I'm Panacea," she told him. "This is Glory Girl."

"You're not in costume," he pointed out, his voice just a little suspicious.

"We had to go undercover," Vicky put in, apparently enjoying herself immensely.

" … right," he replied. "So … what happened to her?" Behind his voice was the dread that every father feels about something happening to his daughter.

"She was _not_ molested, or physically mistreated," Amy told him firmly. "The man who took her was seeking to use her powers for himself, so he was in the process of addicting her to several powerful drugs. I cleaned those out of her system. She may feel odd cravings over the next few days, but that will pass, and there should be no strongly adverse symptoms. It should be all over by Monday."

" … powers?" he asked. "So she does have powers?"

Amy nodded. "Yes. She's a powerful precog. Her headaches come on when she tries to get images of the future, lies about her predictions, or tries to get too many predictions in a day. Tell her to stick to percentages only. Also, try to avoid asking her questions about the future. Her power cannot help but answer them, and this may strain her."

He blinked, but nodded. "Okay. Percentages, no images. Don't lie about it. Certain number a day. Got it."

Amy smiled. "You have a strong girl there, Mr Alcott. Take care of her."

"I will. Thank you both for bringing her back." He reached out and shook her hand, then Vicky's.

"Trust me," Amy told him. "It was our genuine pleasure."

Turning, he went back to the porch; Dinah came out, mug of cocoa in hand, and waved goodbye. "Thank you both," she called.

Amy waved back, then turned to Vicky. "Can we go home now?" she asked. "I am so dead on my feet."

"Thought you'd never ask," Vicky replied with a grin. "Though I have to say, it's been an interesting night."

She scooped Amy into her arms, and they lifted off into the night air.

* * *

"That's funny," Vicky noted as they coasted in toward their neighbourhood. "One of those houses is all lit up."

"Uh, Vicky, I think that's our house." Amy began to get a bad feeling.

"Holy shit, I think you're right."

"What do we do?"

"I think we should land and bluff it out."

"That's what you always do."

"And it works for me, so why change a winning formula?"

Amy sighed. "Okay then, let's do it your way."

_**This might be a mistake.**_

_Can you think of an alternative?_

_**Remember when I suggested you move out?**_

_I can't do that, not to Vicky._

_**So yeah, land and face the music, I guess.**_

As they came in for a landing, it became obvious that the Dallon household had a visitor. The identity of said visitor was equally obvious; no-one else in Brockton Bay rode a motorcycle quite like the one that was parked in front of the house.

"Armsmaster's here." Amy's voice was hushed.

"Want to see if we can't sneak in through the upstairs windows, and maybe pretend to have been in bed all this time?"

Amy shook her head. "They'll have checked." She pulled out her phone and turned it on; Vicky did the same. Each device chimed multiple times as missed calls popped up. All in the last half hour. "Oh yeah. We are so busted."

"Busss-_ted,"_ Vicky echoed her.

As they advanced toward the front door, it opened. Armsmaster stood there.

"I thought it was you," he observed, stepping forward. "Why aren't you in costume?"

"Uh, we've been out and about, enjoying the night air?" ventured Vicky. "Why, is that a crime?"

Armsmaster's lips thinned. "No, but aiding and abetting in a crime is. And so is being an accessory to murder."

_Oh shit._

_**Oh shit indeed.**_

* * *

End of Part Thirteen


	14. Chapter 14

**I, Panacea**

* * *

Part Fourteen: Moving Right Along

* * *

_What do we do?_

_**We say nothing. Lie detector, remember. Also, less chance of incriminating ourselves.**_

Vicky, it seemed, had less in the way of restraint. "What, seriously?"

"Seriously." Armsmaster's voice was hard. "We have footage of you associating with known criminals and not attempting to arrest them."

_Oh shit, this could be bad._ Amy felt herself beginning to hyperventilate, but then her breathing smoothed out again; she realised a moment later that he was doing it, helping to calm her down.

_**Mm, I don't know. He's not actually attempting to arrest us. So it might not be as cut and dried as he's making out. **_His tone was almost detached.

"Jeez," Vicky retorted at the same time. "It's almost as if heroes never team up with villains ever, in any way."

_Where would they get footage of us with the Undersiders?_

His reply was interrupted by Carol Dallon, who had joined them on the pavement. "Vicky, not another word. Armsmaster, are you accusing my daughter of a crime without presenting proof? Are you interrogating her about that alleged crime without reading her her rights? What's she supposed to have done, and what proof do you have?"

_Yay, and she's defending Vicky and not me._

_**With luck, any defence that covers Vicky will cover you too. You might want to mention the lie detector.**_

Armsmaster seemed about to say something, when Amy cleared her throat. "Uh … Carol, Vicky? Just so you know?"

Carol ignored Amy, but Vicky turned to her. "What is it, Ames?"

Amy nodded toward Armsmaster. "He's got a lie detector in his helmet."

Carol's head came up, and her glare at Armsmaster notched up a few levels. "Is that true? Are you subjecting my daughter to an _illegal lie detector test?"_

"It's an invaluable tool for -" He cut himself off.

Brandish pounced. "Interrogating criminals? Is that what you were going to say? Do you consider my daughter to be a common criminal, to be interrogated with no regard for the law? For her rights? For the right to not self-incriminate?"

"Mrs Dallon," Armsmaster stated, "there has been a murder committed. Your daughters were present when it happened. This is a fact."

"That may well be," Carol responded. "But if and when my daughter is questioned about this matter, I _will_ be present, and you will _not _be. If you do attempt to sit in on the questioning, I will require independent verification to ensure that any lie-detection apparatus in your helmet has been disabled. Do I make myself absolutely clear?"

_Wow, she's really going at him hard._

_**Do you blame her? Vicky's under threat. But he should agree. It won't cost him anything.**_

_Why is that?_

_**Because he can get almost the same reading from watching a recording.**_

_Oh. Wow. His lie detector's that good?_

_**Repeat after me: bullshit Tinker based technology is bullshit. Did you know his halberd teleports back to him if he loses it?**_

_I … did not know that. Okay, you've convinced me._

_**But don't relax quite yet. She might have him on the run ...**_

He paused as they watched Armsmaster swing his leg over his motorcycle; it started with a deep-throated rumble. Smoothly, it moved off down the road.

_**Damn, I never get tired of watching that thing.**_

_You were saying about having him on the run?_

_**Yeah. Now that he's gone – **_**you're **_**next.**_

_What?_

She looked back at Carol, who was indeed glaring at her. "Vicky. Amy. Inside, _now."_

"But, Mom -" began Vicky.

_**Are you going to stay or go? Last chance to bail out before the interrogation.**_

"Don't you 'but Mom' _me, _young lady! Get inside this _instant,_ both of you."

_I –_ Amy wavered for a long moment, but the old habits of obedience were too strong. _Crap. I'll stay. It would be unfair on Vicky to bail on her now._

_**Then get inside **_**now, **_**before she has to tell you a third time.**_

There was more than the hint of a parental tone to his voice; either he was a father, she guessed, or he'd associated with teenagers more than once. She didn't argue, trotting up the path to the house with Vicky not far behind her.

Carol followed on, closing the front door with a certain level of finality. She pointed at the sofa. "Sit. Both of you."

Vicky glanced at Amy, who saw the seeds of concern in that look.

_Wow, if Vicky is worried … maybe I should've gone._

_**I think Vicky's got much the same idea. Still think you don't need another place to stay?**_

_Urgh. Maybe._

_**But yeah, you might be right. Let's see how this turns out.**_

* * *

Carol was pacing back and forth, glancing from Vicky to Amy and back again; she wasn't quite tearing her hair out by the roots, but Amy wondered if she wasn't far off it. Abruptly, she stopped, and put her hands on her hips. "How could you be so _stupid?"_

Amy wasn't sure if Carol was addressing her or not, but she felt her mouth open anyway, to defend herself, to offer an explanation.

_**Uh uh. That was a general question. She's throwing guilt at you, in the hopes that you'll confess all.**_

_It's working. I feel guilty already._

_**Well, don't. We did a good job tonight.**_

_And got Coil killed._

"Uh, what do you mean, Mom?" asked Vicky.

_**That's not on you. Taylor made the choice, and I think it was the correct one.**_

_You can't be serious._

Carol glared at Vicky. "You tell me. You let Amy talk you into a midnight excursion, out of costume, and before you're even done, I have Armsmaster on my front doorstep, enquiring into your whereabouts."

_**Well, you tell me. If someone you have at your mercy is threatening your life and those of your loved ones, do you trust that he's changed his mind by the time he's in a position to do just that, or do you end the threat first?**_

_I – I could've checked -_

Vicky set her jaw stubbornly. "It was for a good cause, Mom. It was something that we had to do, and we succeeded."

_**And what would you have done if you'd found the unshakeable intent to do what he said he was going to do?**_

_I … I'm not sure._

"A _good cause?"_ Carol shook her head. "I don't think you realise how much trouble you're in, young lady. Armsmaster is angry – very angry – about what's happened. He hasn't filled me in on exactly what's happened -" She didn't seem _at all_ pleased about that. "- but he's talking aiding and abetting, and accessory to murder. Plus other potential charges. What you've done is obviously very serious. We've got to get ahead of it, and to do that, you've got to tell me _exactly what happened."_

Amy turned her attention back to Mike's voice. _**Suppose the threat wasn't toward Taylor and her dad – who's a pretty nice guy, and damned honest, for someone in city politics – but toward Vicky and you? Would you have stood by and let him threaten you? Accepted that he wasn't going to follow through? Or made sure of it?**_

_I couldn't just __**kill**__ him … _Her thought trailed off, because she wasn't so sure that she wouldn't kill to save Vicky's life. The realisation brought her up short.

"Mom, it's not so simple as that." Vicky's voice was earnest. "This is _important._ I can't go telling just _anyone_." She glanced toward Amy.

_**As I see it, you have three options in that scenario. First, turn him over to the authorities and hope to God they don't chuck him in a revolving-door jail. Second, alter his brain so he can't ever think that way about you and yours. Third, kill him.**_ He paused. _**Let me know if I've missed any.**_

"Don't look at _her,"_ snapped Carol. "She's the one who got you into this mess in the first place!"

_I don't know. I've never thought of killing with my powers before, not seriously. I've never had to go there. And I've always avoided working with brains … well, because._

_**Well, at some point, you're going to have to decide whether or not changing someone's mind is worse than killing them. Your choice. Anyway. This argument's getting interesting.**_

"Don't blame Amy for this," Vicky snapped right back. "It's bigger than both of us!"

"Why shouldn't I blame Amy?" Carol wanted to know. She turned to face Amy. "I want to know what's going on, and why you dragged Vicky into this!"

_**Well, at least she didn't say 'my daughter'.**_

_Shush._

Amy cleared her throat. "We were doing something really important."

_**That's probably not going to be enough.**_

By Carol's expression, he was correct. "You're going to have to do a _hell_ of a lot better than that, young lady, or -"

"Or _what?"_ retorted Amy, stung. "You'll ground me? Fine. It'll be up to you to explain why Panacea's not out and about any more."

Carol rallied quickly. "You'll still be coming out as part of the _team,"_ she stated. "But when we're not patrolling -"

"Hah, no," Amy told her. "You don't get to pick and choose." She felt her resentment rising, and she rode it, let it give her words strength. "Either I'm part of this team, part of this family, or I'm not. Either I'm _trusted_ or I'm not. Either you give me a fair hearing, or you don't. But you don't get to decide that I'm subject to your authority without giving me a fair deal. Not any more."

_**Holy shit, where did that come from?**_

_It's what you've been telling me … isn't it?_

_**Uh, yeah, but … wow. That was as awesome as the mouthful you gave them this afternoon.**_

Before Amy could reply, Carol broke herself out of the stunned state that Amy's defiance had apparently put her into. "You're a _child._ You don't get to dictate -"

"I'm _sixteen,"_ Amy told her. "I had my birthday last year, if you hadn't noticed. I can leave home now. I could join the _Wards._ They'd fall all over themselves to accept me. And can you imagine the newspaper headlines? _'Panacea rejects New Wave'_. How would the team look _then?"_

Carol's face twisted. It seemed that she could imagine it all too well. "We could tell them the truth about how you're the child of a supervillain -"

"Who you attacked in his own home, and abducted his child to raise as your own? _That'll_ go down well."

Carol's mouth fell open; Vicky's didn't, but she came close. "That's not how it was -" began the older woman.

"Actually, yeah, it more or less is," Amy went on relentlessly. "I could give a tearful interview where I reveal how you've barely ever treated me the same as Vicky … believe me, I've got a _lot_ of ammunition here."

"You'd destroy the team," Carol protested. "Do you want to do that? To Mark? To Sarah and Neil? To Eric and Crystal? To _Vicky?"_

Amy shook her head. "It's not me who'd destroy the team. You've already done everything that's needed to do that. All I'd do would be showing people the truth about New Wave."

"Ames -" began Vicky, putting her hand on her sister's arm.

"What?" Amy looked at her. "It's true. You know it's true."

"Yeah … but do we need to bring the team down over it?"

"No, we don't." Amy shook her head. "But I'm not going to let Carol get away with dictating my life, either. Not any more. Especially not about this."

"But the criminal charges -"

"Aren't going to stick." Amy grinned at her sister. "Or did you forget who we spoke to, tonight?"

"Oh. Right." Vicky's face cleared. "But surely even _she_ can't make something like that go away." A pause. "Can she?"

Inside her mind, Amy echoed the question. _Can she?_

_**Yes, actually she can.**_

_Really?_

_**Let's just say, Alexandria's secret identity has serious throw weight.**_

_Oh. Okay._

"She can." Amy's voice was firm.

"Okay, what the hell are you two talking about?" demanded Carol. "Who did you speak to? What do you mean, the charges aren't going to stick?"

"I mean that the _charges_ aren't going to _stick," _Amy enunciated carefully. "And where we went and who we spoke to is absolutely none of your business, unless you're ready to accept that we know what we're talking about."

Carol's expression darkened, but Vicky intervened hastily. "Mom, look. Amy's right. There's a whole lot more going on than you know about, and if you keep prying, you're going to find out more than you wanted to know."

"You're taking _her_ side?" Carol sounded as though she couldn't believe it.

"Hell yes, I'm taking her side." Vicky indicated Amy. "Tonight, I saw just how awesome my sister can be. I kind of like it. Plus, I got to team up with people I never thought I'd team up with, which was also several kinds of cool."

"I'm presuming that's the 'aiding and abetting' that Armsmaster was talking about." Carol's voice was still chilly.

"Mom, _look._" Vicky's voice was impatient. "A girl was _kidnapped. _The bank robbery was a cover. We went and rescued her."

Carol looked dubious. "What girl? What's her name?"

"Dinah Alcott," Amy supplied. "She's Mayor Christner's niece."

"I know of her." Carol frowned. "_She_ was kidnapped?"

"Ring her folks and find out," Vicky suggested. "We spoke to her dad. He knows we were there."

"So why didn't you just _tell _us?" demanded Carol. "New Wave would have pitched in."

Amy blinked as both Carol and Vicky looked at her. _Actually, that's a good question. Why didn't we?_

_**Two reasons. First reason was, I wanted the Undersiders involved, and you can't deny that they did a good job.**_

_Well, granted, but what's the second reason?_

He told her; she repeated it to Carol. "Because at best, you would have questioned me at every step of the way. Worse, you might have pushed me aside and taken charge, and gotten people hurt. At the _very _worst, you would have simply refused to even try, and kept me from doing it as well."

"Mom wouldn't have done that," Vicky stated. "Would you, Mom?" She looked at her mother; Carol stared back, jaw set. "You wouldn't ... would you?"

The damning silence stretched on, then Carol spoke; her tone was grudging. "Not _necessarily."_

_**Which is yes, she would've, but she's not going to admit it.**_

Amy's mental voice was very dry. _I got that, thanks._

Vicky had also apparently gotten it. "Mom!" Her voice was full of pain.

"It's over," Carol's voice was curt. "We'll never know now. What _I_ want to know is, what about this accessory to murder business? Who got murdered, and why in God's name did you allow it to happen?"

_**May as well tell her.**_

"Coil," Amy stated flatly. "He was the one who had the bank robbed, and Dinah kidnapped. We took his base, and took him prisoner. He was … executed, by one of the villains."

"A helpless prisoner?" snapped Carol. "Murdered? Why did you even let this happen?"

"We didn't _know_ it was going to happen!" Vicky retorted. "Ames was saving R- saving one of the villains, and we heard the shot. To be honest, we though it was someone else who got shot."

"Who?"

Amy shook her head hastily. "No, that's something that we're not going to talk about. But Coil was an idiot. He was talking, making false promises, with a precog in the room. He as good as threatened to have one of the villains killed. Maybe more than one."

_**More forgiving of the impulse now, huh?**_

_Well, you've helped me understand it a little more, I'll admit._

Carol frowned. "You don't kill helpless prisoners. It's just not done."

"He wasn't helpless." Amy spoke as firmly as he knew how. "Coil had powers. He was a precog, very specialised. He could take two timelines and pick the best one."

"Which puzzles me," Vicky noted. "If he could pick between timelines – what happened on the _other_ one that made him pick this one?"

Amy shrugged. "Pretty sure we'll never know. Maybe it was going to happen in both timelines."

"Surely he wouldn't be so stupid as to bait them in _both_ timelines," Vicky protested.

_That's a good point, actually. Any idea what happened?_

_**Buggered if I know. Though he was probably trying to angle for freedom, making promises. Maybe he made the wrong promise on the other timeline and one of the others popped him.**_

_Yeah, probably._

"So who killed him?" asked Carol practically.

Amy saw Vicky glancing at her, and shrugged elaborately. "Didn't see it happen."

Vicky took the cue. "No, nor did I."

_**Oh, thank you God. That could have been awkward. Especially for Taylor. Skitter doesn't need a murder charge over her head right now. Or even one for justifiable homicide.**_

Carol folded her arms. "I refuse to believe that neither of you has any idea of who did it."

"Mom, you're a lawyer," Vicky pointed out. "We could say who we _thought_ was the one who did it. But as we didn't witness the actual shooting … " She trailed off meaningfully.

"Why are you protecting this villain?" her mother demanded.

"Because _I_ think it was justified," Amy snapped. "If you had a villain down and at your mercy, and he was vowing to come back and murder Mark and Vicky, and you knew you wouldn't see him coming, how would _you_ handle it?"

_**Hang on, I think I've heard this line of reasoning before somewhere. Wait a minute, it'll come to me … **_The impression of a sly grin illuminated his thoughts.

_Shush, you. _But she was grinning back.

Carol gritted her teeth. "Murder is _never_ an appropriate answer."

"So tell me what is," Amy shot back. "In that case, what's an appropriate answer? One that'll let you sleep at night?"

The look she got from Carol was one of pure dislike. "Sometimes there _is_ no right answer."

"I don't know," mused Vicky. "Coil's not going to be a problem for anyone after tonight, yeah?"

Carol rounded on her. "That was insensitive and inappropriate." She drew a deep breath, apparently trying to rein in her temper, with indifferent results. "Fine. Get to bed, the both of you. _And_ I expect you to be up in time for school tomorrow."

Amy raised her chin. "Am I still grounded?"

"We'll talk about that later. Bed. Now."

_**Much later, if I'm any judge.**_

She suppressed an inappropriate giggle. _Shush, you._

* * *

Amy came out of the bathroom towelling her hair – Carol had unbent enough to allow each of them to have a quick shower, during which time Amy had learned some more lyrics of one of the songs Mike had memorised – to find Vicky waiting for her.

"So what's going to happen now?" asked her sister, in an undertone; their parents' bedroom door was closed, but there was still a line of light under it.

"I have no idea," Amy replied. "They might kick me out. I might move out. I might join the Wards. I think I'll be sleeping on it."

"If they kick you out, I'm coming too," declared Vicky.

Amy frowned. "No. Stay, please." Vicky opened her mouth to protest, but Amy raised a hand. "I'd love you to come along, you know I would. But if you come with me, Carol will come after me twice as hard. If I'm gone, then I'm just gone. And we can keep in touch. Right?"

"Right." Vicky grimaced, displeased. "It'll be totally unfair if she does kick you out."

"Yeah," Amy commented dryly. "And my life's been _totally_ fair up till now."

Vicky snorted, but did not dispute that. "Night, Ames." She held out her arms for a hug.

"Night, Vicky." Amy hugged her; the voice in her head kept a diplomatic silence.

She went to her room and climbed into bed – _back_ into bed, her memory reminded her – revelling in the warmth, the comfort, the cessation of effort.

_It's been a big night._

_**Pretty big, yeah. **_A pause. **_You want to talk about anything?_**

_No, thanks. I'd just like to sleep, please._

_**Yeah, no problem. Night, roomie.**_

A sliver of amusement tinged her return thought. _Night, Michael._

It didn't take her long to get to sleep at all.

* * *

**Friday Morning**

* * *

"Are you sure this is all the data that you were able to get out of the base security system?"

Armsmaster nodded in reply to Piggot's query. "Yes, ma'am."

Frowning, she tapped in a command, and her desk computer began to replay the footage of the area around where Coil had been murdered. At first the playback was flawless, but then strange blips and jumps started creeping in. A camera pointing from one angle caught Panacea and Glory Girl and the Undersiders, looking off-screen, but the camera covering that angle showed nothing but static.

The picture loss became more pronounced, until it was rapid jumps, until it finally cleared, to show Coil slumped in the chair, a red stain on the white snake showing that he had been shot. She ran it back and forth a few times, but nothing eventuated.

"So Glory Girl, Panacea and the Undersiders hit Coil's base last night," she growled in frustration. "_Something_ was in that vault on the lower level, that left behind a pile of some organic slurry or other. Someone, possibly Glory Girl, hit Commander Calvert's house, possibly abducting him, dressing him in Coil's costume, and bringing him to the base during one of the security footage blips before _someone_ shoots him."

Armsmaster's lips pursed thoughtfully. "Director … I might be out of order … "

She looked up at him. "Spill it."

"How well did you know Commander Calvert?"

"Not well." She shook her head. "I didn't like the man. Altogether too self-serving for me."

"Self-serving enough to _be_ Coil?"

She paused for a very long moment. Her initial estimation of _Ridiculous!_ died before her mouth even had the chance to form the word. "He hadn't triggered when I first met him … " _After Ellisburg, _she didn't tell him; Armsmaster still wasn't cleared for that particular debacle. "But it's possible that he could have triggered since. He certainly would have welcomed it."

"Should we investigate the possibility?" _Do you think it's possible enough to check out?_

"Definitely," she decided without hesitation. It was starting to sound more and more plausible in her own mind. _If it's true, there'll be egg on the faces of everyone who vetted him. Including mine; I let him back into the strike squads._

"Okay, so if Calvert _was_ Coil, does this change what happened?"

She shook her head. "Not by much. Not by nearly enough. He was still murdered. By a low-calibre bullet, they say. Pistol, not rifle. And it's either Panacea, Glory Girl or one of the Undersiders who squeezed the trigger."

"Unlikely to be Panacea or Glory Girl," he decided. "Two of the Undersiders already have outstanding murder charges."

"Nothing to do with guns," she pointed out. "Tattletale carries a pistol. I'm waiting on the ballistic report; we can match with the slug we got from the bank."

"Still won't prove she did it," Armsmaster pointed out. "Anyone could have handled that pistol during the camera blackouts."

She made a frustrated noise of agreement. "Did you get anywhere with the Dallons, last night?"

"No." His voice was almost as frustrated. "I spoke to Brandish; she told me that Flashbang had declined to get up. She _also_ made it clear that she would stand by the girls if it came to any sort of legal proceedings. I got a little information out of them, but not much."

"If we end up prosecuting them, it would be huge," Piggot mused. "It would be publicised, maybe nationwide. Crazies crawling out of the woodwork all over."

"Are you saying we _shouldn't_ follow it up, ma'am?" asked Armsmaster dubiously.

"No." Her voice was firm. "I'm going to boot this up the chain. I'll send all the evidence we have, footage, the lot, to Chief Director Costa-Brown. She can look it over and advise me on how we're going to play this; quiet or loud."

"Good idea." He fell silent then, as she began the work of doing just that; dropping the various files into one folder. It took less time than she would have imagined. For a moment, she hesitated on clicking the Send button; the action, she knew, could not be taken back. For better or for worse, it would inform Rebecca Costa-Brown of exactly what had happened.

With the feeling of someone stepping off of a cliff, she clicked the button. The computer displayed its 'operating' icon for a moment or two, then declared that the message had been sent.

"Well, that's that," Piggot decided. "I'll keep you in the loop about what we're going to do about this, of course."

Armsmaster nodded. "Thank you, ma'am."

He let himself out, and she allowed herself to be enfolded by the day-to-day minutiae of her job. Many things, big and small, demanded her attention; not all of these were as attention-arresting as a dead crime lord in the middle of his own base, but they all had to be dealt with.

And then her phone rang; picking it up, she stated, "Piggot."

"_Emily, this is Chief Director Costa-Brown."_

Unconsciously, she straightened in her seat. "Uh, Director. Did you get my email?"

"_Yes, I did. I'm calling about that now."_

"I only expected an email. What did you want me to do?"

"_Nothing."_

" … what?"

"_Leave Panacea and Glory Girl out of it."_

"But … at the very least, they're witnesses -"

"_No. They are not. You can investigate, collect the evidence, but do not involve those two."_

She drew a deep breath. "Yes, ma'am."

"_Good."_ The call ended; there was a faint dial tone in her ear.

Carefully placing the phone down, she sat staring at it for several minutes.

_Now what the hell was __**that**__ all about?_

Misgivings or no, she had her orders; she set to work carrying them out.

_One of these days, I'll have my answers, _she promised herself. _Just not today._

* * *

End of Part Fourteen


	15. Chapter 15

**I, Panacea**

* * *

Part Fifteen: Arrival

* * *

**Friday, April 15, 2011**

* * *

"Wake up, Ames. It's time to get up."

Amy Dallon shook off her sister's hand and rolled over, burying her face in the covers. "Jus' five more minutes," she mumbled.

"No, you need to get up _now_, or we'll be late for school," insisted Vicky.

"Don' care." Amy burrowed deeper. She was bone-tired, the type of fatigue she only got from walking to the hospital and back in the middle of the night. _I must have had some really difficult cases last night._ It was odd that she couldn't really remember them …

_**Nope.**_

She sat bolt upright, wide eyed, as adrenaline coursed through her system. The sudden movement startled a yelp from her sister, as Vicky fell backward away from the bed. She recovered herself, of course – flight was good for that – and came to a hover just in front of the dresser. "What was _that_ about?"

"Did you – did you hear that?"

Vicky brought her feet down to the ground again. "Hear what?" she asked with a frown.

"That voice." Amy was panting now with repressed fear, her heart hammering, aware that she should be remembering something very important …

_**Ah, sorry. Didn't mean to frighten you. Remember me? Mike Allen? Security?**_

Her eyes very wide now, Amy stared around the room, looking for the source of the disembodied voice. And then, as her brain finally rebooted, she did remember. _Oh. Oh, right._

_**Yup.**_ The voice was very dry. _**Still here. You okay?**_

_I … I am now. Sorry, I just took a moment to remember what happened._

_**S'okay, kiddo. No worries. So, now that you're awake, you want to get up?**_

_Yeah, I think I will._ Now that she knew what was going on, she felt her heart rate ease back a notch. _Gotta shower quick and get dressed. Want to turn your back and close your eyes?_

_**Too bloody right. Thanks for the heads-up. Oh, and by the way? Vicky still looks a little confused.**_

_Oh. yeah._ She focused on her sister. "Sorry. I temporarily forgot about Michael. You know, the voice in my head?"

"Oh, yeah, that." Vicky's expression did not seem overly joyful. "Still in there, is he?"

_**Nah, I went to Hawaii for the holiday season. Where the heck else would I be?**_

Amy repressed a grin at his exasperated tone. _Shush, before you make me laugh._ "He, uh, he says that no, he's still right there."

Vicky's eyes narrowed. "So how do you deal with …" She gestured vaguely at Amy's body. "I mean, this is a guy, right?"

_Oh great, not this again._ "He's also old enough to be my father, and he's a perfect gentleman besides." _If just a little inclined to grab the wheel in times of crisis …_

_**Ouch. I resemble that remark. But I have been getting better, right?**_

_Admittedly, yeah. _She cleared her throat. "So yeah, it _was_ more than a little awkward at first, but we've worked out how to get around that. Okay?"

"If you say so." Vicky's expression was less than thrilled.

Amy was more than a little puzzled at her reaction. _Why's she upset? We kicked ass last night. All due to you. She should be pleased that you're around._

_**She's being protective. You're changing in front of her eyes, and that's due to me as well. She's worried that I might not have your best interests at heart. But she can't **_**do**_** anything about me. If she punches me, she punches you.**_

_Oh. Right. I see. "Any_way," she continued out loud, "I do need to have a quick shower _now,_ or we'll be late for school, even with you flying me in."

"Uh, yeah, about that," Vicky commented. "Um, just presuming that what you told me last night wasn't you messing with my head …"

_Is she talking about …_

_**Yyup.**_

"Ah, no, that was all true. Sorry. _Is_ true." Amy felt a blush beginning to colour her cheeks.

"Right. Well. And you're certain you're still okay with me flying you in to school? I mean, you don't feel awkward about it?"

Vaguely, she felt the presence within her withdrawing. _**Staying well out of this.**_

_Thank you._ Outwardly, she rolled her eyes. "Seriously, I feel _more_ awkward with you asking me if I feel awkward than when you didn't know. Because then I start wondering if it's awkward for _you,_ and you don't want to make me feel bad."

"Oh. Uh. Sorry. No, I don't feel awkward. After all, I've carried _guys_, and I'm pretty sure they were interested in me too." She gave Amy a sly grin.

"Smartass." Amy snorted. "But yes, I still enjoy being carried in to school by you." She paused. "But not in _that_ way, no." Not that being carried like that _didn't_ fuel certain fantasies, but Vicky was _never_ going to learn about those if Amy had anything to say about it. Leaning forward, Amy rapped gently on Vicky's forehead. "You're still my best friend. And I'm not about to let stupid teenage hormones get in the way of my friendship with you. Okay?"

"Okay, cool," Vicky agreed. "But you'd better hurry up and get dressed. If we leave in the next five minutes, we can get to school on time, but that's only if I push it."

_Which means that if I grab a shower now, I might make us late. __**Wonderful.**_ She was only vaguely aware of Vicky leaving the room, shutting the door behind her.

_**Well, you don't **_**need**_** to take a shower.**_

_What do you mean? And were you listening to all of that?_ Delicately, she sniffed at her underarm. _Shower is definitely a good idea. I smell._

_**Yeah, I was listening. Involuntary guest, remember? By the way, you handled that really well with her. Little bit of embarrassment on both sides, but you laughed it off and got on with the job at hand. Well done.**_

_Uh, thanks. _She smiled a little at the praise. _I don't think we're ever going to be quite the same together again, but I want us to still be friends. But what do you mean, no shower?_

_**Well, it looks like you're on the right path to keeping her as a friend. As for not needing to shower, that's simple. Retask your skin microorganisms to nomming down on anything that causes body odour. It won't feel as nice as a hot shower, but …**_

… _but it'll work for today. You're a genius._ As she formed the thought, she delved into the microcosm of the multitude of skin mites that lived on her body. Normally, she blocked that sort of thing out, so that she wasn't distracted twenty-four-seven by their activities, but now she had need of them. It took just a moment to plot out the required changes, then set them in motion.

_**Not me. I was just pointing out the obvious. You're the brains of the operation, remember?**_

Silently, she snorted. _Some of the time, maybe. You're obviously very conversant with how my power works. How'd that happen, anyway?_

The impression of a grin came to her. _**Let's just say I read the cheat sheet. So yeah, got my eyes closed and back turned. You can get changed now.**_ Once more, she felt the presence retreating into the back of her mind.

_Thank you._ She reached into the closet and began to pull out clothes. _But I'm taking a shower as soon as I get home. Even if I don't need one now, I still feel like I do._

_**Fair call.**_

* * *

Changed, she dashed downstairs, where Vicky was waiting with a couple of plates of toast spread with butter and jam. "Saved some for you," she told Amy cheerfully, holding out one of the plates. Then she went back to eating a piece off of the other plate.

"Ooh, you're a lifesaver," Amy told her, grabbing the plate. There was a glass of juice waiting on the kitchen bench for her, so she drank that down before starting on the toast.

"Only some of the time," Vicky replied in an amused tone. She popped the last of her toast in her mouth , chewed and swallowed. "Can you finish that on the way? We're pushing it as it is."

"Sure, okay," Amy agreed readily. She preceded Vicky out to the front porch, where her sister locked the front door then effortlessly scooped her into her arms. The cool morning air made her cheeks sting as they lifted over Brockton Bay and made a beeline toward Arcadia High.

_**Wait, shit, no. You're going to Winslow this morning, remember?**_

_What? Winslow? Why?_ And then, belatedly, memory of the bus ride burst in on her, of telling the solemn-faced bespectacled girl that she would end the bullying forever. _Oh crap. I promised, didn't I? I forgot all about that._

_**Don't feel bad about it. So did I, till just now. But yeah, we promised. Can we still do this?**_

_Going to have to, aren't we?_ Aloud, she cleared her throat. "Uh, Vicky? Change of plans. We need to go to Winslow."

Vicky looked startled. "Winslow? What? Why?"

Amy heard an inaudible chuckle, then realised that Vicky had repeated what she had said almost exactly. Ignoring that, she went on. "Yesterday, I made a promise. Remember the Undersiders, last night?"

"As if I could forget." Vicky paused. When she spoke again, her tone was suspicious. "What kind of promise?"

"Well, at least one of them got that way because of bullying," Amy forged on. "She wouldn't have gotten powers without it."

"Okay, that's pretty horrible, but she still had the choice to not become a villain," Vicky pointed out. "We're not our trigger events, you know."

_**Pfft, yeah, right.**_

Amy didn't stop to ask what he meant. "Actually, in this case, yeah, she kinda is." She paused. "Because the bullying is _still going on."_

That was enough to bring Vicky to a halt in midair. "You're _shitting_ me."

"I shit you not." Amy made her tone serious. "Yeah, she's a villain. Yeah, she uses her powers to commit crimes. But she's being bullied _right now,_ and she's refusing to use her powers to retaliate. Tell me what sort of villain does that."

There was a very long pause. Vicky grimaced, as if in pain. "Seriously? Life was a lot simpler before this shit started." She didn't have to explain what she meant by that. "Okay, what was your promise?"

"That we'd go to Winslow, today, this morning, and sort this shit out once and for all. Name the bullies. Out them to the principal. Put a stop to it."

Vicky grinned. "Any chance I could get in on this action?"

Amy shrugged lightly. "I did say 'we', remember? I kind of thought you might like to yell at someone after last night."

The grin grew sharp. "Oh _hell_ yes." She nodded toward Amy. "You're gonna have to make the call to Arcadia, tell 'em we're gonna be late."

"It's in a good cause." Amy tried to sound philosophical.

"Yeah, well, my first period was gonna be PhysEd. Think they even let me pretend to play basketball any more?" Vicky snorted. "This is gonna be _so_ much more fun." She started toward Winslow as Amy dug her phone out of her purse.

"Oh, and one more thing," Amy told Vicky as they gained speed.

"What's that?"

"One of the bullies is a Ward."

Vicky stared at her, shocked. "Okay, now you have to be shitting me."

"Once again, I shit you not. Shadow Stalker."

"Fuck." Vicky set her jaw. "She's a bitch, but I didn't think she was _that_ much of a bitch."

"Believe it."

"And she's been doing this for how long?"

Amy briefly consulted Michael. "September, year before last," she informed Vicky. "Before that, she turned this girl's best friend against her."

"Okay, wow, this is just weird." Vicky paused. "Uh, if we're gonna be saving this girl from bullying, I'm kinda gonna need to know her name …"

Amy grimaced. "I kinda promised her that I wouldn't out her to you."

"Okay, just her real name, then. And I won't look too hard at her to see which one she is."

It wouldn't be hard to tell, Amy knew. The three female members of the Undersiders had different body types, not to mention hair colour. _Shit, I shouldn't have said she was one of the Undersiders._

Michael sounded unhappy too. _**Yeah. Fuck. Well, it's out now.**_

"You're not going to be using it against her?" Amy looked Vicky in the eye. "Because that would be the dick move to end all dick moves."

Vicky shook her head. "Cross my heart. They were actually all pretty cool last night. Even Tattletale, when she wasn't being a pain in the butt." She paused. "It's not Tattletale, is it? Because I really can't see her rolling over and allowing some high school bitch to bully her."

Amy shook her head. "I can't tell you one way or the other. Her name's Taylor."

"Taylor, huh? Okay."

"I rode on the bus with her. We had a good talk. She actually started out wanting to be a hero, but then Armsmaster was a dick to her. And the Undersiders saved her life. And the bullies kept on being bitches to her. So she joined the only people who'd been _nice_ to her since she got powers."

There was a long silence as Vicky considered that. "And Shadow Stalker's one of the people bullying her." It wasn't quite a question.

Amy chuckled again. "Yes. You are correct. We are indeed flying to the crappiest school in Brockton Bay to go to the rescue of a supervillain who's currently being bullied by a superhero."

"Well, when you put it like _that …"_ Vicky added a little speed. "You might want to make that call."

Amy made the call.

* * *

Vicky's sneakers crunched down on the gravelled parking lot outside Winslow's front doors. She let Amy down on to her feet, then stared up at the less than impressive frontage of the school. Graffiti slashed across the brickwork here and there, fresher colours overlaying more faded efforts.

"Fuck," she muttered. "This is a place I normally wouldn't bother going into without serious backup."

Amy stepped forward. "If you're scared, I can go in alone," she offered.

"Fuck, no. You go in, I go in. Let's go talk to the principal. What's his name?"

"_Her_ name's Blackwell," Amy passed on as they started forward. "She knows that Shadow Stalker's a Ward, and she bends over backward to accommodate her in the school."

Vicky grimaced. "I hate it when that happens. I mean, I like being liked for being Glory Girl, but I wanna be treated the same as everyone else too, you know?"

_**Wow, does she even listen to herself?**_

_Shush. Can you remind me of the names of the other bullies?_

_**Which is it? Shush, or talk to you? **_She got a distinct impression of humour.

Mentally, she made a rude noise. _Talk to me. Jerk._

_**Well, since you asked so nicely … **_she _felt_ the grin. _**Emma Barnes and Madison Clements. There are others, hangers-on. One girl called Julia Morrow, a friend of Madison's. Taylor will no doubt be able to point out others.**_

_Okay then, thanks. How have they been able to get away with this?_

_**Emma's pretty and popular, plus her father's a lawyer, remember?**_

_Oh, right, yeah. He defended Sophia._

_**Right. Sophia's athletic and popular, despite being a bitch. Madison's cute and petite. You know, classic high school clique?**_

_I was never really part of that scene. I was Panacea almost from the start._

_**Yeah, nobody bullies the healer, right?**_

_Especially with Glory Girl to back me up._

_**Heh, yeah.**_

"So, names you need to know," Amy informed Vicky as they made their way down the corridors. Subtle cues from Michael told Amy which way to go. "Emma Barnes. Her dad works at Mom's firm. She's pretty and popular."

"Right." Vicky grinned.

_**Wow, I think I just heard 'challenge accepted'.**_

_Me too. Shush._

_**Make me.**_

Amy ignored him. "There's also Madison Clements. She's part of the same clique as Sophia and Emma, and she's got a friend called Julia. Pretty sure that Taylor can point out more."

"Okay then." Vicky cracked her knuckles; they were approaching the door marked PRINCIPAL. "Shall I kick it in, or knock first?"

_**So … very … tempted.**_

_Yeah, me too. But we really should do this the right way._ "Uh, knocking is probably a good idea."

Vicky wrinkled her nose. "Spoilsport." But she knocked anyway.

"Come in?"

Opening the door, Amy entered. There was a desk, with a secretary behind it. Her name badge read MARIE. Beside the desk was a door leading back into what Amy guessed was the principal's office proper.

"Hi," Vicky greeted the secretary. "I'm Glory Girl, this is Panacea. We're here to see Principal Blackwell."

"Oh, uh, do you have an appointment?"

Vicky grinned; Amy felt her aura start to press outward. "We do now."

Marie blinked a couple of times. "Oh, uh, go right in."

"_Thank_ you." With a smug look at Amy, Vicky strode to the inner door and flung it open. "Good morning, Principal Blackwell," she announced, severely startling the narrow dirty-blonde woman behind the desk. "My name is Glory Girl, and I'm here to make your life easier."

* * *

Five minutes later, they were just beginning to get through to her. Blackwell still dabbed occasionally at the fresh coffee stain on her blouse – the corresponding pool on the desk had been wiped up – but she was paying attention now.

"You know of a case of bullying in Winslow, and you're here to put a stop to it?" she asked, somewhat blankly. "But you don't even _attend_ Winslow."_ If only you did, _the wistful tone in her voice proclaimed to one and all.

"Doesn't matter," Amy replied. "I rode on the bus yesterday with a girl from here, and she ended up telling me about what's going on here. So I asked my sister to come and help me deal with it."

"But … you're _superheroes._ Isn't high school bullying a little … well, beneath you?"

"Not if the bullying counts as criminal assault, it isn't," Amy declared. "Do you recall an incident at the beginning of the year? A girl being locked in her own locker?"

She could tell almost to the second when Blackwell's eyes clicked into focus. _Oh shit, it's about that._

"Her own _locker?"_ asked Vicky. "That actually _happens?"_

"It not only happens," Amy told her, "but it happened to one particular girl here at Winslow. The locker was first filled with used feminine products, and then when she opened it, she was shoved in, and locked in there. _For more than an hour."_

Vicky stared at her. "And you know this for a fact."

Amy's stare was dead level. "I do."

"Holy mother of crap." Vicky turned her gaze on Blackwell; Amy could feel her aura ramping up, and not in a good way. "You _let_ that shit _happen?"_

"I – we – there was an investigation -"

"And nobody came forward. Right." Vicky's lip twisted in disgust. "Of course they didn't. And of course nobody wanted to listen to what the _victim_ had to say, because she's a loner. She's _nobody."_ She leaned forward, her knuckles on the desk, lowering her voice. "And because one of the perpetrators is a _Ward."_

Blackwell went so white that her hair looked almost dark by comparison. Amy seriously wondered if she was about to pass out. "I – uh – how -"

"I _date_ a Ward, you …" Vicky bit off the insult she had been about to utter. "I know all their faces, all their names. So when Amy came to me with the names of the bullies …"

"Th-that's just hearsay. You have no proof -"

Vicky smiled now, razor-sharp. "Oh, _good._ Legal terms. I know just who to talk to about legal terms." Pulling out her phone, she dialled a number.

Blackwell glanced at Amy. _Who's she ringing?_ Amy thought she knew, but decided to just shrug. She was enjoying the show too much to spoil Vicky's surprise anyway.

_**Okay, this is just awesome. All I need is popcorn.**_

_It's kind of like watching a train wreck in progress. Only a good one._

_**Hah, yeah. This should be good.**_

"Hi, mom?" Vicky's voice was bright, cheerful. "I have a legal question for you. Yeah, sorry, not at school. Had a hero thing I had to take care of." A pause. "It's all right, Dean will give me his notes. So, the legal thing. Hang on, I'll put you on speaker." She clicked a button, put the phone on the edge of the desk.

"_This is Carol Dallon. Who am I speaking to?"_ Carol's voice crackled out of the phone.

"You're talking to Principal Blackwell of Winslow High," Vicky informed her sunnily. "She has a student who told Ames about the bullying she's undergoing to this very day. But at the beginning of the year, she was locked in her own locker with toxic waste. She's told Amy who did it, but nobody else is listening to her. What does this sound like to you, legally speaking?"

"_It sounds like a massive lawsuit to me," _Carol stated flatly. _"Does the alleged victim have any other proof?"_

Vicky turned to Amy. "That's one for you, Ames."

_**Her own word, plus pages and pages of material she's written down since September, plus printouts of emails she's gotten.**_

"She's got lots of written evidence of bullying," Amy replied carefully, "but only her own word that it's the ones she's named. Plus a well-documented incident earlier this year."

"_Well, even if the actual culprits can't be pinned down – and a good lawyer can do a lot with written evidence – it still sounds like the school is extremely liable."_

"Okay, that's true," agreed Vicky. "But I've got one more kicker for you. One of the bullies named is a Ward. Which is why they've been covering it up all this time."

"_Did the victim know that the Ward was a Ward when she named her as a bully?"_

"No," Amy stated flatly. "Absolutely not. I recognised the name when it was told to me."

Carol did not second-guess her. _"Who is the Ward involved?"_

Vicky and Amy looked at one another. Amy drew a deep breath. "Shadow Stalker."

There was a long pause, so long that Amy checked the phone to make sure that it hadn't dropped out. _"That's … actually plausible,"_ replied Carol, eventually. _"So what do you plan to do with this information?"_

"Uh, get them called into the office, I guess," Vicky replied. "Talk to them. Have Taylor hand over the evidence. Tell them if it happens again we'll be back."

"_That could work," _Carol agreed. _"Don't say or do anything that could lead to legal problems. And pull Shadow Stalker aside and let her know that if any more trouble comes of this, I'll be dropping a word in Armsmaster's ear."_

"Oh yeah, one other thing," Vicky added. "One of the bullies is called Emma Barnes. Her dad works with you?"

"_Alan Barnes. Right. I know him. I'll have a word with him about his daughter. If the school decides to punish her, he won't be interfering."_

"Thanks, Mom. You're the best."

"_That's all right, honey. Once you're done there, get to school, will you? Good grades aren't going to happen on their own."_

"Will do, Mom. Love you." Vicky ended the call and put the phone away. She gave Principal Blackwell a bright smile. "So, answer your questions?"

Blackwell looked hunted. "Uh … I suppose. What happens now?"

Reaching across the desk, Amy grabbed a pen and a pad. She wrote down five names. "Call these people to the office. Please."

* * *

**Taylor**

* * *

_They're not here. Amy said they were going to be here._

Taylor sat in her World Affairs class, not even caring that Madison and Julia were eyeing her like vultures. It was true that her new career as a supervillain had changed her outlook – being something like twenty-five thousand dollars richer overnight was only a part of it – but she had felt that Amy was someone to be trusted. She had said she was going to show up with Vicky and confront Blackwell about the bullying, but classes had started and she hadn't turned up.

_Just one more person I can't depend on to have my back._

Taylor forced down the sense of disappointment and betrayal and tried to focus on what Mr Gladly was saying. She barely even heard the ancient public address system crackle into life.

"_Will the following people please come to the principal's office … Emma Barnes … Madison Clements … Sophia Hess … Julia Morrow … Taylor Hebert … repeat, will the following people please come to the principal's office … Emma Barnes … Madison Clements … Sophia Hess … Julia Morrow … Taylor Hebert …"_

It was with a shock that she heard her own name at the end of the list; across the room, Madison and Julia were both staring at each other in surprise. As it began to repeat again, her eyes widened as Emma's name and then Sophia's came up.

_Oh shit, oh shit, it's happening. They're here._

Coming to her feet, she dumped her books in her bag and slung it over her shoulder. Before Mr Gladly could even say anything to her, she was heading for the door. Once in the corridor, she started toward the office, long legs eating up the distance. But she wasn't fast enough.

"Taylor!" That was Madison, behind her.

"What the fuck?" Julia was chiming in. "Did you snitch to Blackwell?"

_Snitch._ As if it was a _crime._ "No, I didn't," she called back, without turning her head. "I don't know _what's_ going on." Which was half a lie, but it would do, for the moment.

"No, that's not good enough!" Madison sounded closer; Taylor increased her pace. "You must have said _something."_

"Well, why don't we find out what the fuck's going on when we _get_ there?" Taylor shot back, still not looking at them.

"If you say _one fucking word_ about what's been going on -"

Taylor tuned out Madison's words, but then she heard running footsteps behind her; a quick glance showed Julia coming up fast. She only needed that impetus; she took off running. They gave chase, of course, but she had longer legs. Her morning and afternoon runs had improved her wind and speed, so she outdistanced both of them relatively easily. Their shouted taunts dropped away behind her, but she didn't mind. Words were just words; they didn't know the ones that hurt and stung, the way Emma did.

* * *

**Vicky**

* * *

When the office door opened, Amy and Vicky both looked up. A tall skinny girl with glasses entered, looking just a little flushed and dishevelled; she was breathing a little harder than normal. Blackwell looked at her disapprovingly. "Have you been running in the halls?"

"Yeah," the girl told her flatly. "Because Madison and Julia wanted to interrogate me as to why we've been called here. I didn't want to be interrogated. So they chased me and I ran."

"Are you all right?" asked Amy.

"Yeah, they didn't get hold of me," she replied. "Hi, Amy. Good to see you."

"Good to see you, too," Amy replied. "Taylor, this is my sister Vicky. Vicky, meet Taylor."

_We've already met,_ Vicky thought quite loudly. _You're the bug controller._ The body type and the long dark hair were unmistakeable. But she put out her hand anyway. "Hi, Taylor. Pleased to meet you. Any friend of Ames is a friend of mine."

Since she'd gotten her powers, Vicky was less able to gauge strength in others. But Taylor's grip was at least firm, maybe a touch stronger than her skinny frame suggested. She shook Vicky's hand once, then let go. "Nice to meet you," she replied. "So has Amy told you what's been going on?"

Vicky nodded. "Some of it, yeah." She grinned. "I spoke to Mom about it. About the first word out of her mouth was 'lawsuit'."

Taylor blinked. "I don't -"

The door opened again, and a red-haired girl marched in, followed in quick succession by a petite brunette wearing sky-blue pins in her hair, a taller blonde girl … and Sophia Hess. _Shadow Stalker. _Neither the blonde nor the brunette were pretty enough to be the leader of this little pack, but the redhead was.

The girl who Vicky presumed to be Emma Barnes looked directly at Taylor, then at Principal Blackwell. Vicky was a little surprised that she hadn't taken enough notice of either her or Amy to recognise them, but then, they weren't in costume either. It was interesting to note.

"We're here, Principal Blackwell," 'Emma' announced. "What seems to be the problem?" _What's Taylor been saying about us behind our backs? _was reasonably understandable in what she didn't say.

Principal Blackwell straightened herself in her chair. "The problem, Miss Barnes, is that these people seem to think that you've been bullying Taylor Hebert -"

"Oh, we don't _think_ that," interrupted Vicky. "We _know_ it. You're Emma Barnes?"

Emma turned to look at her. "Yes," she replied sharply. "And who are …"

By the dawning expression of comprehension, she knew who Vicky was. _**Now**__, she recognises me. _On Sophia's face, there was a look of sudden calculation. _I know who she is, and she knows it. She's trying to figure the way out of this trap._ The other two just had growing looks of horror on their faces.

"Yup," Vicky told Emma with pure satisfaction. "I'm Glory Girl, and I'm here to shut you down."

* * *

End of Part Fifteen


	16. Chapter 16

**I, Panacea**

* * *

Part Sixteen: Panacea at Winslow, Part the First

* * *

"I'm Glory Girl, and I'm here to shut you down."

_**Wow,**_ Michael commented in Amy's head. _**Does she **_**practise**_** lines like that?**_

_Probably. _She shared in his amusement. _She does like her dramatics._

_**That's like saying the ocean's a little bit wet. Did you know she practised her landing till she got it just right? You know the one, where she lands on one knee and one fist, with an arm out behind?**_

_I … no, but it doesn't surprise me. How did you know that? Oh, wait._

_**Yup. Now, if only I could get popcorn in here.**_

"I'm sorry?" Emma stared at Vicky. She had been taken aback for a moment, but now she was recovering quickly. "Are you here as a superhero or a student?"

"Well, I don't attend Winslow," Vicky retorted. The words _thank God_ hung in the air unsaid. "But when I heard about a case of bullying here, I decided to come and deal with it." She took a step forward. "Because this sort of thing doesn't fly. Not on my watch."

"Bullying?" Emma raised one perfectly manicured eyebrow. "Isn't that a little bit … well, pedestrian for you? I mean, there's robberies and muggings going on all the time in Brockton Bay, and you come here, to Winslow, to pick out one particular case of alleged bullying? What's _really_ going on here?"

Silently, Michael cleared his non-existent throat. _**I think that's your cue.**_

_Oh. Right._ Amy stepped forward. "What's going on here is that no crime is too small to be dealt with … "

Before she could say more, Emma interrupted. "A crime? Really? Hazing between students isn't really a _crime_ is it, Principal Blackwell?"

_**Ooh, she's good.**_

_She's definitely got a career in law ahead of her, _Amy agreed silently as she forged on. "It depends on what the hazing consists of. Like consistent _theft_ of the student's belongings. Deprivation of liberty. Assault and battery. They sound like crimes to me. How about you, Vicky?"

Emma smiled tightly. "Well, to start with, I'd want to see what proof you have that any of these so-called crimes even took place. And then I'd want to see proof that I or my friends had anything to do with any of them. Slander is also a crime, even for a superhero."

Vicky's smile had an edge to it, and Amy felt her aura ramp up a little more. "Oh yes, your father's a lawyer, isn't he? So's my mom. Remember her? Brandish? Carol Dallon? Works at the same firm as your dad? Only he specialises in divorce cases while she's a criminal lawyer. And I've already spoken to her. And she'll have spoken to him, so he's not gonna be able to back you up on this one. _So_ sorry."

Emma blinked, but rallied fast. "Still doesn't mean that there's any case to answer. And if you follow me around, looking for proof, I can have you charged with harassment, lawyer mom or no lawyer mom."

Amy watched Vicky's hands begin to curl into fists as the aura ramped up yet again. _That's not a good sign._

_**Figured it wasn't. Ah crap, too strong, too strong.**_

_What?_ She was confused.

His inner voice was urgent. _**Get Vicky's attention. I'll explain once you have.**_

_Okay._ She cleared her throat; each of the others turned to look at her, except for Vicky, who kept her eyes on Emma. "Glory Girl? A word?"

Now Vicky half-turned her head. "What is it, Panacea?"

Amy tilted her head. "I need to speak to you, now."

"Can it wait?"

"No." She shook her head. "Now, please."

Reluctantly, Vicky broke eye contact with Emma and stepped over to her sister. "What?"

_Ah, yeah, what?_

_**Tell her to turn her aura the fuck down.**_

Now that he mentioned it, Amy could feel the heightened anxiety that came from being around Vicky when she was angry. It wasn't that she was immune, as she liked to tell Vicky, but that she was inured to it and could ignore the effect. "Vicky," she murmured. "You need to turn your aura down. Like, right now."

"What? Why?"

_**Assault with a parahuman power.**_

Amy realised that he was right. "Just do it," she whispered. The pressure of the fear upon her eased right off as Vicky complied. _What made you think of that?_

_**Been there before. If Emma hadn't thought of it, Sophia would have.**_

And in fact, even as he voiced the thought, Amy saw Sophia's face twist in disappointment.

_How did you know?_

"Okay, done. Now why did I do it?"

_**I've been in a situation where that came up. Didn't come to much at the time, but the threat is there. In fact, I'm personally surprised that she's never had a problem with this before.**_

_Well, usually it's a street scumbag who's too scared to try anything. Even if they are, the threat of Carol Dallon, parahuman lawyer, is enough to make them back down._

With the merest of head movements, Amy indicated Sophia. Her lips barely moved as she spoke. "She was getting set to claim that you were assaulting her with a parahuman power."

Vicky frowned. "I never touched her."

"Your aura," Amy said succinctly. "You're making them fear you. Legally, a case could be made for an assault charge."

Vicky blinked; it was obvious that she'd never even considered that before. "That's never happened before."

Amy echoed Michael's words. "First time for everything."

"Okay." Vicky bit her lip. "Want to take over?"

"Uh -" _I'm not sure about this._

_**You'll be fine. But I can take over if you want me to.**_

That put steel into her spine; a moment later, she wondered if he had intended it that way. Then she stopped wondering. _No, I can handle it._

She stepped over to face Emma. "So, let's take this from the top."

Emma looked her up and down. Her expression wasn't quite a sneer, but nor was it exactly respectful. "Why don't you just admit that you've got nothing and go away?"

"Because that wouldn't be exactly true," Amy said steadily. "You see, yesterday, I rode on the bus with Taylor. We got to talking and she let slip something that made me ask a few questions. Questions that led to this moment. She revealed that she's been getting bullied here on a daily, almost an hourly, basis."

Emma tossed her hair. "She's always complaining about something. Nobody likes her, you know. She tells tales to get attention and to get others in trouble. She could be lying to your face and you'd never know."

Amy smiled. "Well, that's the problem. My powers tell me when someone's lying, with a one hundred percent success rate. She never lied to me." _Okay, details please._

_**Coming right up. **_Michael began speaking inside her head; she repeated his words carefully.

"Just for instance, her backpack has been stolen on several occasions. She doesn't use her locker any more, because even since the time she was _locked_ in it – and yes, we'll get back to that – because it's been broken into at least four times, and personal items stolen." She looked at Sophia. _"You _stole her mother's flute from her locker, and asked Emma what to do with it." Her gaze switched to Emma. _"You _told her to mess with it, destroy it, make it so that Taylor would never even want it again."

"You can't prove either of those allegations!" burst out Emma.

"True," murmured Amy, "but there's more. Principal Blackwell, I presume you have access to all student email accounts?"

"I, uh, yes," the principal said. "Why do you want to know that?"

"Because I want you to access Taylor Hebert's accounts. All of them. Tell us what you find in them."

Blackwell frowned. "All of them? Each student is supposed to have just one."

Amy sighed theatrically. "Apparently Taylor needs more than one to hold all the hate emails she gets on a daily basis." She gestured. "Please humour me."

"Principal Blackwell, are you honestly going to let a couple of kids who don't even attend Winslow tell you what to do?" Emma's voice was the very epitome of reason.

"Am I honestly going to have to call my mother and ask her to start preparing the paperwork for the lawsuit?" responded Amy sweetly. "This way, it gets dealt with in-house. The other way is extremely expensive for the school and for your family, Emma, plus those of your friends. And I'm pretty sure that Winslow won't be thrilled at you dragging its good name through the mud."

_**Such as it is, **_appended Michael. Amy didn't repeat that bit out loud.

The principal was looking back and forth between them like a spectator at a tennis match. "This _is_ highly irregular," she managed at last. "Panacea, Glory Girl, if you have formal charges to lay, then lay them. But as it is, you're disrupting the running of this school. These girls have classes to go to, and I have work to do."

"So your paperwork is more important than getting to the bottom of an ongoing campaign of bullying? One that's been happening since the beginning of school, the year before last?" Amy didn't need Michael's prompting. "The victim and perpetrators are _right in front of you,_ and you're not going to do anything about it?"

Emma opened her mouth. "Those are baseless allegations -" she began.

"Miss Barnes, I'll handle this," Blackwell said. "Panacea, I don't know how New Wave handles this sort of thing, but I presume you wait until you have some evidence that the person you're accusing actually has something to do with the crime? Just saying 'he did it' isn't exactly legal or ethical."

"This is _why_ we had you call Taylor here as well," Amy pointed out. "She's the victim. She's the witness. She was _there. _Taylor?"

Startled, Taylor cleared her throat. "I _have_ been getting bullied, Principal Blackwell," she confirmed. "Repeatedly. Daily. By these three and their friends."

Blackwell frowned. "Then why haven't you been telling the teachers?"

"Because it's happening _in front of_ the teachers, and they haven't been taking notice, or if they have, they haven't cared enough to do anything about it," Taylor replied, her voice rising slightly. "Just for one example, Mr Gladly ignores everything that Madison and Julia do to me."

"I find that hard to believe," the principal said. "Mr Gladly is a very conscientious teacher."

"Oh, he pays attention all right," Taylor told her bitterly. "To the popular kids. I'm not a popular kid. I may as well be part of the wallpaper. Madison walks to the trash can to sharpen her pencil. On the way, she pushes my books off my desk. On the way back, she dumps the shavings over me. And he doesn't see a _damn thing."_

Blackwell cleared her throat. "Language, Miss Hebert."

Taylor rolled her eyes. "I'm sorry. He doesn't see a _darn_ thing, then. It's still true."

"If you called attention to this, then he would _have_ to do something about it," Blackwell pointed out.

"Oh, he sees it. Barely." Taylor shook her head. "Just the other day, we had a class assignment to do with capes. I did a pretty good one. He split us into groups. Madison was part of my group. She stole my assignment and gave it to Emma, who presented it for _her _group."

"That's not exactly something that would lead to criminal liability -" began the principal.

Taylor held up her hand. "I wasn't finished. After the class was over, he kept me back, told me that he wasn't blind, that he saw stuff was going on."

"Well then," the principal stated, a smile beginning to cross her face. "As I said."

"Except that he wanted me to name names," Taylor said. "On my own? With nobody backing me up? Even if it stuck, it would come to nothing and I'd be even more of a social pariah than I am now. I told him exactly how useless that would be. So when I left the classroom, Emma and her friends surrounded me, calling me names. Taunting me. Sophia even stole my backpack. And he was _right there, _locking up the classroom. He even looked over at me. Then he walked away."

There was silence for a moment, then Emma spoke up. "That didn't happen." Her voice was bold, daring anyone to contradict her.

Amy reached out to Taylor. "May I?"

Taylor blinked. "Uh, sure?" She allowed Amy to take her by the hand. Amy became fully aware of every biological process, every aspect of her. "What do I do now?"

"Just answer this. What you just said, about Mr Gladly and Emma and her friends, was it true in every regard?"

"Uh, sure," Taylor said. "Absolutely. After it happened, I was so upset that I walked out of the school. Skipped the rest of the day."

Amy felt the hormonal balances, the tensions in her body. Thanks to her power, she could read them like a book. She turned to Blackwell. "She's telling the truth. Not even lying a little bit."

"So she says," Emma stated flatly. _"We _can't see what's going on."

Amy felt her lip curl very slightly. "My powers are well documented. I will testify to the absolute truth of her statement in any court of law."

"And I'll back her up," Vicky said. "This is _Panacea._ She cured the president of what's-that-place's kid of _cancer_. She didn't just get her powers _yesterday,_ you know."

They both turned to look at Principal Blackwell, who was beginning to develop a particularly hunted look. "I'll, uh, speak to Mr Gladly about this matter," she muttered. "If it's true, it's definitely something we're going to have to look into."

"Really?" Vicky's tone was definitely sarcastic. _"If_ it's true? We come in here telling you what's been happening and you're still covering your ass as hard as you can?"

"Well, what do you _want_ me to say?" demanded the principal. "I'm fully aware that you, Glory Girl, could pull the school down around my ears if you so wished. And you, Panacea … well, I don't know exactly _what_ you could do, but I can't just ignore you. However, on the other hand, I can't just take everything you say in blind faith, because if you're mistaken -"

Sophia and Emma had been whispering together, and now Emma spoke up. "Or lying -"

"Don't even go there." Vicky's voice was flat, almost emotionless, but Amy felt her aura beginning to ramp up again. _Oh, crap._ "Don't _ever_ call my sister a liar."

Amy didn't need Michael's reminder; hastily, she cleared her throat. Vicky looked at her; Amy patted the air in a downward motion. The emotional pressure receded, but it was too late. Sophia put her hand to her throat. "Principal Blackwell," she said, "may I be excused? Glory Girl's aura is making me feel unwell."

"Me too!" Madison added hastily. "It's making me feel really horrible."

Emma looked at the principal while pointing at Vicky. "See what she's doing? She's controlling our emotions with her aura. She's _attacking_ us. Does that seem like the fair or right thing to do? Especially for a_superhero?"_

"I'm not doing it _now,"_ protested Vicky. "And it's not an attack. It's just my aura. It shouldn't be affecting you any more."

"Well, it is," Sophia claimed. "I don't feel good at all. Principal Blackwell, I think she's trying to intimidate us into confessing stuff we never did."

Principal Blackwell shook her head. "That's unconscionable, Glory Girl. _And_ highly unethical."

"But I'm not _doing_ it!" Vicky's face was a study in frustration. "It wouldn't affect them that much, and I've turned it off anyway. They're faking it for sympathy."

"I could feel it earlier," Blackwell told her flatly. "That's enough for me. Please leave my school now. Don't come back without an express invitation."

"But -"

"Glory Girl." Blackwell pointed at the door. "Go, now. Before I'm forced to call your parents."

_**Well, that's **_**one **_**way to deal with a parahuman that isn't in the standard procedures.**_

_Shush, you._

Vicky set her jaw, looking mutinous. Amy felt the first stirrings of her aura once more, and nudged her. "Go," she murmured. "I got this."

_Oh god, I hope I got this._

_**We got this. It's okay. But I gotta say, Emma's sticking to her guns. Didn't know she had it in her.**_

"You sure?" Vicky asked, just as softly.

"Sure," Amy replied with a smile that she didn't feel. "Wait outside."

"I don't like leaving you alone."

"But I'm not alone," Amy reminded her. "I'm _good._ Just _go."_

Slowly, reluctantly, Vicky went to the door and opened it. One last glance, then she was gone.

"Is anyone still feeling unwell?" asked Amy brightly. "I can check you over, if you want. Make sure there's no lasting side-effects."

The looks traded between the four girls carried a wealth of communication. Emma spoke for the group. "No, we're good. Now that she's gone."

"Are you certain?" asked Amy. "Just to be sure?"

"We're certain," Emma assured her. "We're all feeling just fine."

"Translation," Taylor put in dryly, "they don't want you being able to say they're lying if you ask them any questions while checking them over."

_Well, that __**was **__plan A._

_**Nice try, but yeah, they got there first. But, on the upside …**_

Amy grinned at Emma. "It also means that Vicky was right, and her aura did wear off pretty quickly, then, yeah?"

Emma frowned. "It was still really unpleasant. We didn't consent to that at all. Maybe a lawsuit -"

"Nope." Taylor cut her off. "I met Glory Girl for the first time yesterday. I've felt her aura. I can testify that the effects wear off pretty quickly." She turned toward Principal Blackwell. "Have you gotten into my email accounts yet?"

"I, uh, no," Blackwell replied, taken aback by the question. "Is it really necessary to … ?"

"Uh, _yes," _Taylor said firmly. "You want proof that I've been bullied, here's evidence they can't explain away or hide. Open them up and have a look."

"Whatever's in those email accounts," Emma interjected, "anyone could have written it. It wasn't me or my friends."

"Wow, it's almost as if you know there's bad stuff in there," Taylor commented.

"Well, you _said_ there was," Emma countered.

Blackwell was tapping away on her computer. "Here we are … Taylor Hebert … seriously? How many email accounts do you _have?"_

Taylor sighed. "I'm not sure. I've been through about one for every two weeks of school. The inboxes get clogged up with hate mail."

"It sounds to me like you've upset someone, Taylor," Madison ventured. "Maybe, whatever you're doing, you should stop it."

"I've done _nothing_ to _anyone,"_ Taylor insisted. "This is all happening to _me._ I'm the _victim_ here."

Blackwell clicked the mouse a few times; Amy guessed that she was reading one of the emails. The principal's lips moved silently as she studied the screen. Amy watched the line between her eyebrows, already prominent, deepen considerably.

The temptation to say something was almost unbearable, but she kept quiet. Blackwell clicked on to another email, then a third. Then she did something else that Amy couldn't interpret. Finally, she sat back from the computer and looked at the girls in the room.

"That was … disturbing," she admitted. "Someone obviously bears a lot of ill-will toward you, Miss Hebert. Are they all the same?"

"'Eat broken glass, I hope you die in a fire'? That sort of thing?" asked Taylor. Blackwell nodded. "Yeah, pretty much."

"And your email accounts. They're all full?"

Taylor nodded. "All except for the latest one, yeah."

Blackwell folded her hands and looked at Emma. "And what do you have to say about this?"

The redhead looked defiantly back at her. "What I said before. We didn't do it."

_Can we prove they did?_

_**Not conclusively. They didn't do anything stupid like sign their names to any emails. Throwaway accounts only.**_

_Oh. Then what can we do?_

_**Remind them that there's other stuff.**_

_Oh, like the locker?_

_**Like the locker.**_

Amy cleared her throat. "That's fine. That was just to prove to you that there is ongoing bullying. Now, there's been some physical incidents as well. Such as the locker."

Taylor swallowed involuntarily, and Blackwell's lips tightened. It was obvious that neither one had fond memories of that incident.

Emma, on the other hand, narrowed her eyes slightly. "And I suppose you're going to blame us for _that,_ too."

"Well, yeah," Taylor told her boldly. "I saw you in the crowd just before I opened my locker. All three of you. It's something you'd do."

Principal Blackwell cleared her throat. "Taylor, can you _prove _that they are the ones who put the trash in your locker, then locked you in with it?"

Taylor locked eyes with Emma for a long moment, then shook her head. "I was puking at the time. But I _know_ it was you."

"You don't know _anything,"_ Sophia told her.

"Wait, wait," Amy said. "You weren't looking, right? But just before, you _had_ seen Emma and who else?"

"Sophia and Madison," Taylor replied at once. "Right near my locker. Watching me."

Amy turned to Emma. "So you were there, but you say you didn't push her into the locker?"

"No," Emma said defiantly. "I didn't lock her in the damn locker."

"But you _were_ there," Amy pressed. "Right?"

It was Sophia who answered. "Sure we were there. But like Emma said, we never locked her in the locker."

Amy didn't say any more; she just turned to Principal Blackwell and raised an eyebrow. It took the principal a moment or two to get the point. "Wait," she said. "You _saw_ Taylor get locked into a locker full of … toxic _sludge_ and you never did anything about it? Didn't raise the alarm? Didn't tell a teacher? You just _left_ her there?"

_**Hah!**_

_What?_

_**Nicely done. I didn't even see that coming.**_

Internally, Amy grinned._ I don't think they did either._

The three girls were looking at one another in some consternation. Sophia recovered first. "Uh, we didn't actually see her get locked in her locker. We were just passing by."

"Bullshit," snapped Taylor. "You were standing. Watching. You weren't going anywhere. You _knew _what was in there. And if you didn't, the smell would have clued you in. It was _rank."_

"I tend to believe her." Blackwell's tone was judicious. "If nothing else, you would have been aware that someone had pranked her. The urge to stay and watch is almost irresistible. I think that you were at least aware that she had been locked into her locker." She stood up, placed both hands flat on her desk, and leaned forward. "Which means that while it can't be proven that you _put_ her in there, I am convinced that you deliberately _left_ her in there."

Madison and Sophia opened their mouths to protest, but Emma waved them to silence. "And so what if we did?" she asked boldly. "We're _teenagers. _We're not legally responsible for _any_ of this. So we stood in the crowd and watched. It's a peer group thing."

"Pshh, yeah, as if," Taylor jeered. "You don't _follow_ peer group pressure, Emma. You _dictate _it."

Emma looked her directly in the eye. "Prove it," she invited softly.

"Enough." Principal Blackwell sat down and nodded to Amy. "Please continue."

_Uh, give me something else, quick._

_**Okay then. **_Michael began to speak; Amy followed along.

"How about the incident in the girls' bathrooms, on the third floor? Last week? Remember that?"

"I couldn't exactly _forget_ it," Taylor replied. "It was Friday. I was eating my lunch in the bathrooms, and they came in. Emma held the cubicle door shut while Madison and Sophia poured their drinks over me from either side. Then they walked out laughing." She gave Amy an odd look, then turned back to Blackwell. "I _saw_ them. There was no doubt. They were standing there outside the cubicle when I opened the door. Making _jokes."_

_**That was the day she decided to actually go out in costume for the first time.**_

_Oh. Wow._ Amy looked at Taylor with a little more respect. _She's pretty good for a first-timer._

"And what do you say to that?" Blackwell's gaze on Emma wasn't exactly benign.

"She's lying." Emma's voice was firm. "We were nowhere near those bathrooms. Either she's making the whole thing up, or someone else did it and she's blaming us."

_**Wow, the technique of the Big Lie is alive and well.**_

_You're not wrong._ Aloud, Amy cleared her throat. "Taylor?" She held out her hand. Taylor promptly took it. "Have you lied in any substantial way about any of this? Did you actually see Emma and Madison and Sophia in the bathrooms after the drinks were poured over you?"

Taylor nodded. "I'm not lying. I did see them. I _also_ saw Madison and Sophia tipping the drinks over me. Some of it went into my backpack and ruined my books."

Amy felt the strength of her conviction translated into brain chemistry. She nodded in turn, looking at Blackwell. "I believe her. She's telling the truth."

Blackwell laced her fingers before her. "Well, then." She eyed the quartet of girls with some disfavour. "Panacea is a well-regarded superhero. I have no reason to believe that she is lying about incidents with which she has no connection. She's proven that Taylor is being bullied, and by your own admission you have at least allowed Taylor to suffer a particularly grotesque prank. Each of you has also been implicated in at least one other prank. I'm seeing a pattern here."

Emma's face was a study in stunned disbelief. "But – but we didn't _do_ it!" she protested. Had not Amy read the truth from Taylor's biology, she may even have believed Emma, so good was the act.

"Merely saying so doesn't make it so, just as I told Panacea earlier," the principal told her. "Contact your parents, all of you. There will be a meeting this afternoon to deal with this matter, once and for all."

Amy felt relief settle over her. _Well, that should sort them out._

_**I wouldn't be so sure.**_

_Huh?_

_**Trust me, Alan Barnes is as twisty as a snake. And if he doesn't have someone there to trump him …**_

_Oh. Right. _"Uh, Principal Blackwell?"

Blackwell looked over at her. "Yes, Panacea?"

"With your permission, I'd like to attend the meeting as well, along with my mother. Who will be representing Taylor, in her professional capacity." Ignoring Taylor's wide-eyed stare, she gave Emma a tight smile. "You bring your lawyer, we'll bring one for Taylor."

"Can she even _do_ that?" demanded Sophia. "It's not like she even attends Winslow."

"I won't be here as a student," Amy told her with some satisfaction. She turned to Principal Blackwell. "With your permission, I'll be here as a superhero. However, _Taylor_ has the right to legal representation in this sort of situation, and that will be my mother."

Outwardly, she was doing her best to radiate confidence. Inside, she was not so sure. _Oh god, I hope I can get her to come._

_**Ask Vicky to make the call,**_ Michael suggested pragmatically. _**Get her to play up how smug and self-serving they are. Most especially, how long they've been getting away with it. It should push a few buttons.**_

_I'm not sure exactly why, but I'll take your word for it._

"But why do you even need to be here for it?" Emma pressed. "It's not like you have a stake in this."

"Sure I do," Amy told her sweetly. "I've undertaken to protect Taylor. So I _will _be coming back -"

_**No, you're staying for the day.**_

_What?_

_**Just trust me.**_

Amy looked to Blackwell. "Uh, I mean, again with your permission, I'll be staying here for the day, and asking my mother to come to the meeting this afternoon." She tried not to stumble over the phrase 'my mother'. "To make sure that justice is done."

Blackwell eyed her curiously. "And exactly why _are_ you staying?"

_Yes, why __**am**__ I staying?_

_**Do you honestly think they won't try to coerce her into backing down, or at least get retribution for this, the moment you walk out the doors?**_

_What, really?_

A snort. _**Wanna take the chance?**_

_But she can take care of herself -_

_**Okay, would you rather see her go bugpocalypse on the school?**_

… _I think I'll stay._

_**Good idea. I wish I'd thought of it.**_

She ignored that, and deliberately looked Emma in the eye. "I'm thinking that some of Taylor's bullies might not get the message that she's off limits." She faced Blackwell, her tone less challenging. "So, if I may, I'll be hanging around and keeping an eye on her, just to be sure that nothing untoward happens between now and this afternoon."

"I'll have to check with the PRT," noted Blackwell. "Just to okay your presence as a cape in the school." Interestingly enough, she herself didn't seem to have a problem with it.

_**Oooh.**_

_What?_

_**This could be interesting.**_ His mental 'voice' was gleeful, but he didn't explain any further.

Blackwell picked up the phone, then looked at the six girls. "Wait in the outer office until I've finished this call."

One by one, they trooped out, Taylor sticking close to Amy. Madison, the last out, shut the door behind her. Emma immediately turned toward Amy.

"Okay," she said in a low tone, "what's this _really_ about? Because I refuse to believe that you met this _loser_ and spontaneously decided to fix her bullying problem."

Amy gazed back at her, not speaking, for a long moment. She studied Emma's expression carefully, trying to figure out what was going on behind her eyes. "Do you even _hear_ yourself?" she asked at last. "Taylor was your best friend, once upon a time. Do the words 'loyalty' and 'commitment' actually _mean_ anything to you?"

Emma flinched as though she had been slapped. "Sophia, back me up here." When there was no answer, they both looked around. Sophia had her phone out and had turned away from the group. Her hands were cupped around the phone and she was speaking in a low voice. "Sophia!"

Sophia didn't even look around; instead, she waved Emma away without pausing in what she was saying. Amy caught the words "- to the Director -" before her hand cupped over the phone once more.

_Who's she calling?_

_**Her social worker. Otherwise known as her PRT handler.**_

_Oh._

_**Yup. Now, if Taylor's gonna call her dad, you're gonna have to lend her your phone,**_ Michael suggested._** She doesn't own one. Her dad won't allow them after her mom died in a car accident, texting.**_

_Oh. Wow. That's rough. But maybe I should call Vicky?_

_**I'd actually give it a moment. You're going to be getting a phone call from the PRT sometime shortly. And they're gonna be asking what the hell's going on with Shadow Stalker.**_

_Oh. Right._

_**And as Sophia's calling the PRT right now, you'll need to answer fast, before Sophia gets her version out there.**_

_I … yeah. I see your point._

At that moment, her phone rang. Glancing at the screen, she saw it was Director Piggot herself.

_**Told you.**_

Turning away from Emma, she accepted the call and put the phone to her ear. "Hello?"

"_Panacea?" _She was pretty sure she recognised the voice.

"Yes. Are you calling about …" She paused for just a moment, unwilling to name Sophia in either her normal identity or her masked ability. "Uh, about one of your Wards?"

"_Yes, I am. Are you where you can speak privately?"_

"Just one second, please." Gesturing to Taylor to follow, she pushed open the door into the hallway and stepped through. Taylor followed as she walked a short distance down the corridor. "Now I am."

"_Good. I just got a call from Principal Blackwell at Winslow High, telling me that you're saying that Shadow Stalker has been perpetrating a long-term bullying campaign against another girl at the school, aided and abetted by other students there."_

"Yes, ma'am. I believe that implicitly."

"_Do you have any evidence?"_

"There are written sheets, detailing actions by Sophia Hess against this girl," Amy told her. "She has accused Sophia and her friends of orchestrating these actions against her. Using my powers, I have verified that she is speaking the absolute truth as she knows it."

"_I see." _There was a long pause; Amy began to wonder if the Director had put the phone down and walked away. But then the Director's voice came back on the line. _"So you personally believe Sophia Hess to be a bully? This isn't just some casual schoolyard hazing?"_

"Her actions go far beyond 'hazing' and fall into the lap of 'criminal intent'." Amy made her voice as firm as she could. "One of the other girls just asked me why I'm defending 'that loser'."

"_Very well. I see. Thank you. So you will be staying on at Winslow for the day to ensure that nothing else happens to this girl? What's her name, by the way?"_

"Her name is Taylor Hebert and yes, I will. Do you want to speak with her? She's right here."

"_I … think I'll leave that for a later time. Have you told her who Sophia is?"_

Amy thought back. _She knows, but …_ "No, I haven't."

**_Oooh, semantics, even. I like it._**

_Shush._

"_Good. Please do not. We don't need that complication on top of everything else. Do your parents know about this?"_

"Not yet. I was about to call them when you rang."

"_Understood. The sooner they know what's happening, the better. Principal Blackwell has said you will be getting one or both to sit in on the meeting?"_

"If I can get Brandish to sit in on Taylor's behalf, I will," Amy told her. _I am not going to call her 'my mother' again._

The Director didn't seem to notice. _"As a lawyer or as a cape?"_

"Lawyer. One of the other girls has a father who's a lawyer, and that would give her an unfair advantage in this situation. So I've decided to level the playing field."

There was a pause, and Amy heard the rattle of computer keys. _"This would be Alan Barnes, father of Emma Barnes?"_

_Damn, she __**is**__ on the ball._

_**Yup. Bitter, yes. A little bigoted, yes. Stupid, hell and no.**_

_Got that, yeah. _"The very same."

"_Understood. Ah; I have a call coming in on another line. I would very much appreciate it if you could fill me in on what happens in that meeting."_

Almost, Amy asked the question out loud, but she restrained herself in time. _What, she can't just ask Sophia or the social worker?_

_**Neither one of whom has seen fit to tell her about the bullying so far. You're an independent source.**_

_Oh. I see._

"_Are you there?"_

"Oh, sorry, yes, ma'am. I can definitely do that."

"_Good."_ And without further ado, the Director hung up.

_Well, that was abrupt._

_**She's not exactly one for diplomacy. **_Michael's 'voice' was more than a little amused.

The door into the office opened, and the secretary looked out at them. "Oh, there you are. The principal wants you back inside."

"Coming," Amy replied. She nodded to Taylor; they both went back into the office.

_**You should have mentioned the arrows.**_

_We can do that later, right?_

_**Probably.**_

* * *

"Director Piggot made it very clear to me," Blackwell stated. "Panacea is here in her capacity as a cape, not as a student. She will remain in the general vicinity of Taylor Hebert, given that her stated goal is to ensure Taylor's well-being for today. I will be informing the faculty of this situation."

She looked at the group of girls before her, apparently awaiting a response, before going on. "If there is any attempt to interfere with either one of them, then I _will_ come down on the offender like a ton of bricks."

"Wait, wait," protested Emma. "Are you accusing us of -"

"I am accusing you of _nothing,_ Miss Barnes," Blackwell told her. "I am making a general statement. If you have no intention of bullying Miss Hebert or causing problems for Panacea, then you have nothing to worry about." She turned to Amy. "Do you have any issues with any of this?"

"None whatsoever, Principal Blackwell," Amy replied politely. "I just need to speak with Glory Girl before classes start, so that she knows what's going on."

"Do so outside, then," Blackwell said. "No doubt she means well, but that aura is not what we need in a school already filled with highly-strung teenagers."

_I'm guessing this means she won't be able to stay as backup for us, in case of trouble._

_**I'm thinking you're right.**_

_Was this in the original plan?_

_**Hell no. I liked the idea of having Vicky there to get us out of strife.**_

_Out of what?_

_**Strife. Trouble.**_

_Oh. Okay. So what do we do?_

_**We see it through. Unless you want to pull out, of course.**_

Amy shook her head, then realised what she'd done. "Oh, uh, you're perfectly within your rights, of course," she agreed belatedly. "I'm kind of used to her aura, but being exposed to it for the first time can be rather overpowering."

Principal Blackwell nodded. "Yes. Well, classes start soon, so you'd better go now."

"Sure thing, and thank you for your patience, ma'am," Amy said. "Come on, Taylor."

* * *

As they headed along the hallway, Taylor's voice was almost hushed. "That was … _awesome."_

Amy grimaced. "It could have gone a lot better. We could've caught them out in a lie, or Vicky could've been not kicked out of the school. Just for instance."

"Yeah, no, I get that. But the last time anyone came in and laid down the law like that, it was Dad, when the locker thing happened. No-one else has done it for me, ever."

"Wait a minute." Amy was starting to put a picture together, and she didn't like the look of it. "You were bullied for like a year before the locker thing happened."

"Uh, yes."

"And your dad never intervened before then?"

Taylor was looking uncomfortable. "Uh, he didn't know?"

Amy stared. "What? Why didn't you tell him?"

The look of discomfort increased. "Because, well, he had enough on his plate. And we were still getting over Mom. And if you hide something like that long enough ..."

She trailed off, but Amy was nodding. "It's really hard to start admitting to it. Okay, yeah. I can understand that one."

Michael made a throat-clearing noise.

_What?_

_**She might want to call her dad?**_

_Oh. Oh, yeah._ She pulled her phone out. "Want to call your father and tell him about the meeting?"

"Yeah, that might be a good idea." Taylor accepted the phone. "Thanks. Thanks a lot."

_Uh, do you know if her father knows that she's …_

_**That she's got powers? Not that I know of.**_

_Should he be told?_

_**Only by her. **_His voice was definitive.**_ We could try to convince her to say something, but if she says no, we don't take matters into our own hands._**

_Okay. But …_

_**What happens when he finds out eventually? He'll deal. He usually does.**_

She paused. _Okay, you've lost me. He usually does what?_

**_This isn't my first rodeo, remember? I've been through this before. Danny Hebert finds out that Taylor has powers at some point. Sometimes at the worst possible moment, sometimes not. But he loves her enough that he almost always accepts it, and her._**

_I have no idea how it would feel to be outed like that._

**_Well, yeah. You kind of grew up pre-outed. To you it's normal._**

_Sometimes it is, and sometimes I envy those capes who have a secret identity. They can take off the mask and be Joe Normal. I'm always Panacea, even when I don't want to be._

**_Which is basically all the time, now._**

… _yeah._

* * *

Danny Hebert signed the last sheet and pushed the stack of paper into his Out tray. He eyed the new stack in the In tray and sighed. Standing up, he put his hands in the small of his back and pushed; vertebrae popped.

Stepping around his desk, he poured himself a cup of coffee from the machine; it was harsh and bitter, but it was hot. He was just stirring the second teaspoon of sugar into the brew when his desk phone rang.

"Okay, who is it this time?" he muttered, leaning over the desk and twisting his neck to read the caller ID. More vertebrae popped, but he took no notice; the number was not one he knew.

Frowning, he seated himself on the edge of the desk and reached back for the phone. Bringing the receiver to his ear, he took a sip of coffee and swallowed it before answering. "Dockworkers' Association, Danny Hebert speaking."

"_Dad?"_

He blinked a couple of times. "Taylor?" Of all the voices he had expected to hear, hers was not one of them. "What's up? Why are you calling me?"

"_Nothing's the matter, Dad. I can't talk much right now, but Principal Blackwell wants you to come into Winslow after school finishes this afternoon."_

"What? Why? What's happened?" A dozen scenarios popped into his head, all involving Taylor, all bad. But she didn't _sound_ distressed; in fact, she sounded positively chirpy.

"_Nothing. Well, nothing bad. But there's a meeting today with me and some other girls and their parents, and I'm pretty sure you need to be here too."_

He took an aggravated breath, then let it out as a sigh. "Taylor. Slow down. What's this meeting _about?"_

Now she sounded less sure of herself. _"Uh, you know how the school said they'd keep people from bullying me?"_

"Yes?" An ominous feeling was building in his chest. "It's started again, hasn't it?"

"_It, uh, never stopped?"_

Briefly, he wished he could reach through the phone and shake her. "Taylor, dammit, I thought we _talked_ about this. You were supposed to _tell_ me about things like that."

"_Yeah, I know. And I'm sorry. But it's being dealt with. Which is why the meeting."_

" … _dealt_ with?"

"_Yeah. You're never gonna believe this. Superheroes came to the school, and now Principal Blackwell's looking really hard at the bullies."_

"You're right. I don't believe it."

"_It's what happened. Look, I gotta give Panacea her phone back. See you this afternoon?"_

"Of course. See you then," he agreed automatically. She hung up before her previous words had time to register on him. When they did, his brain locked up for just a moment. _What's she doing, borrowing Panacea's phone? What's Panacea even doing __**at**__ Winslow?_

Shaking his head, he placed the receiver back down on the cradle. _This is one meeting I'm not going to miss for anything._

* * *

"What? No! You're not spending the day here. Not a hope in hell."

Taylor leaned against the wall, watching Panacea talk to her sister. Glory Girl didn't seem to be taking the news well. Which, Taylor mused, was not much of a surprise; the blonde teen cape struck her as being somewhat protective of her 'little' sister.

"Yeah. I am." Amy, however, was capable of being just as stubborn. "You can't come back in till Principal Blackwell says you can. And you saw how Sophia and the others were. They'll have _hours_ to plan something that won't look like their doing, but will be calculated to get at Taylor in some way. So I'm sticking right at her side till the meeting."

"Meeting?" Glory Girl looked puzzled. "What meeting?"

"What do you mean, what meeting?" Amy frowned. "I told you about the meeting, didn't I?"

"Well, no," Vicky told her. "What's happening?"

"Blackwell's getting Taylor together with the bullies, and she's told them to call their parents in. I'll be sitting in." Amy paused, looking a little awkward. "I, uh, kind of volunteered Carol to sit in as well. In case Emma's dad tries something."

Vicky winced. "Did you clear it with Mom first?"

The awkward look turned into a grimace. "Uh … could you? Ask her, I mean?"

There was a distinctly doubtful look on Vicky's face. "You're the one who made the decision. Pretty sure you should be the one to make that call."

"No way." Amy shook her head. "She'll listen to you. All the times I helped you out? I'm calling that in."

"You're … but … you … oh, _crap."_ Vicky's face fell. "That's low, Ames."

Amy beamed at her. _"Thank_ you." She paused, then went on. "And don't forget to point out how smug and arrogant they are, how they seem to think they should be allowed to keep doing it."

Vicky nodded. "Yeah, I can do that." She gave Amy a mock glower. "I never thought you'd hold that over my head. I thought family didn't do that."

That got a shrug from Amy. "Hey, desperate times call for desperate measures."

"Yeah, right." Vicky wrinkled her nose. "Okay, fine. I'll make the call." Pulling out her phone, she hit speed-dial.

* * *

Carol Dallon stamped the document and set it aside. She was reaching for the next one when her mobile trilled at her, using the ringtone she had assigned to Vicky's calls. Putting the stamp down, she pulled the phone out and answered it. "Vicky. Has the situation at the school been resolved?"

"_Uh, not quite."_

She frowned. "What's happening?"

"_Well, the bullies are smarter than we expected. They got me booted from the school. And Amy's spending the day here."_

" … what."

Vicky began talking rapidly. _"It's a long story. Well, not really. We were talking to the principal but the bullies kept winding me up, and I kind of let my aura slip a little, and they complained about that, so the principal told me to leave so I did."_

She paused for breath, and Carol managed to get a word in edgewise. "That's unfortunate, but why does Amy want to spend the day there?"

"_Because the bullies are real bitches, excuse my French. There's going to be a meeting after school with the girls and their parents. She's staying here to make sure they don't get to this girl before the meeting. And we think you should come along."_

She frowned. "Why? Surely the principal has it under control?"

_"Well, they've been specifically told to bring their parents in. And if Mr Barnes gets going, he might just twist things enough so they wriggle out from under."_

"And you want me to come along to stop this from happening." She was already mustering the wording for turning Vicky down – it wasn't as if she had time to attend _every_ hard-luck story – when her daughter spoke again.

_"Yeah, Mom. You should see them. They're arrogant and smug as hell. Emma Barnes used to be the best friend of the girl who's being bullied, then she just turned around and stabbed her in the back. It really burns my butt to see it."_

The words wouldn't come out. For a long moment she froze, undecided. _I can't really afford -_

Vicky was still talking. _"And then there's Shadow Stalker. I thought she was supposed to be a hero. But the way she's acting, it's like she's been getting away with it for so long that she thinks she__**deserves**__ to, you know?"_

Carol spoke softly, her tone dangerous. "Oh, she does, does she?"

"_God, yes. It's like they think the rules don't apply to them."_

She smiled grimly. In her mind, she was already going through her daily planner, shuffling appointments around to make a free space. "I'll be there." _And god help them. Especially Shadow Stalker. Heroes need to be held accountable._

"_Thanks, Mom! You're the greatest. Love you."_

"I love you too, Vicky," she replied. Automatically, her thumb pressed the button to end the call, but her mind was elsewhere. Images from her past rose, unbidden, in her mind's eye.

_They think they can just get away with doing something like that, huh?_

_Not on __**my**__ watch._

* * *

"So she's coming?" Amy had figured as much, from Vicky's side of the conversation, but it paid to not assume anything.

"Oh hell yes she's coming," Vicky replied with a grin. "I pity the opposition."

_**Me too.**_

_It'll be nice to have her being disapproving at someone else instead of me._

_**Yeah, well, first off, we've got to survive a day at Winslow.**_

_Yeah, that. _She took a deep breath. "Shall we go in?"

Taylor licked her lips and nodded, looking just a little nervous. "Let's go kick ass."

Amy grinned. "That's the spirit."

Together, they stepped forward and re-entered Winslow High School, just as the bell rang for the next period.

* * *

End of Part Sixteen


	17. Chapter 17

**I, Panacea**

* * *

Part Seventeen: Panacea at Winslow, Part the Second

* * *

Amy was used to spending time in school with people who knew her heroic identity. However, there were a few differences in this particular instance, each of which contributed toward a somewhat surreal experience.

In the first place, while everyone at Arcadia knew who she was, they were also accustomed to her presence. Nobody found it odd that Panacea was sitting at the next desk over; people would borrow a pencil off of her or lend her an eraser, without making a big deal out of it.

While she usually had Vicky nearby, this was not always the case. But even when Amy's super-strong sister was elsewhere, nobody hassled her or asked for an autograph. Someone wanting a selfie with her or Vicky was not an unusual occurrence; at one time, such photos had been common, with some people not even bothering to ask permission first.

The latter practice eased off when Brandish made a formal complaint to the Principal's office. There were still a few who didn't get the message, but when Vicky made a point of crushing their phones and cameras in her bare hands, even that had stopped.

But that was Arcadia. This was Winslow. She wasn't in costume which helped a little; given how much of her face it covered, she was actually less recognisable than most of New Wave, despite being the most famous healer in the world.

_**Wow. I'm guessing you're kind of sick of that phrase.**_

_Yeah, I guess. It was nice at first to know that so many people thought I was so special._

_**But then you learned that 'special' meant 'never be able to quit', yeah?**_

She had long since stopped wondering where he got all of his unique knowledge about her situation. It was still a little weird when he referred to things that she'd only ever thought about in the privacy of her own mind.

_Are you __**sure**__ you can't read my memories?_ She hoped like hell that it was still the case, because otherwise she'd be blushing all day long. _Nobody's_ uncensored memories should be put on public display, especially those of a teenager.

_**Absolutely certain. What I know about you is … well, it's from a unique source. One I can't tap from here, unfortunately. But like I said before, I can only really 'read' the thoughts you're thinking at the front of your mind. Background stuff, I can hardly even notice it's happening.**_

_Right. Okay. So what do I need to be worried about? What do I need to watch out for?_

"Where are we going now?" she asked out loud. "I kind of don't have any books."

Taylor, striding alongside her, grinned. "Pretty sure they won't actually ask you to do any work. Or if they do, you can borrow mine."

_**Wow, she's definitely in a better mood. Oh, and to answer your question, I'm thinking not overt pranks. You might not be able to punch through a brick wall, but you have someone on speed-dial who can. I'm guessing they'll go for a whispering campaign. They might even try to turn the gang kids against you.**_

It was taking all the concentration she had to keep the two halves of the conversation in order. "Uh, thanks," she said, in reply to both Taylor and Michael. Turning to Taylor, she went on. "You're definitely looking happier than you were earlier."

"Yeah, well, _then_ I thought that you and Glory Girl had punked out on me. Like everyone _else_ who ever promised to help." The flash of bitterness made Amy wince. "But then you showed. And even if we lose, the school can't ignore this shit any more. Not when superheroes are getting involved."

As one of the superheroes involved, Amy felt a flush of pride. "I just wish we didn't have to, to stop this sort of thing going on. I mean, if even one _percent_ of this happened at Arcadia, to _anyone, _there'd be a metric ton of trouble landing on all concerned. _Including_ any staff members who might've seen something but failed to do anything about it."

Taylor sighed. "Oh, God. I only wish." A faint crease marred her brow. "I just hope that they get the message and back off."

"Which reminds me," Amy said, recalling Michael's words. "Remember the guy I told you about on the bus? Security? He said they might try a whispering campaign, or even turn the gang members against us. Against me."

Now Taylor did look a little concerned. "Ooh. Yeah, maybe. Hopefully not, though. With any luck, any gang kids she talks to won't be that stupid."

_**Great. Now she's banking on the inherent intelligence of teenagers who've already joined a criminal gang.**_

Amy grimaced, acknowledging Michael's point. "Uh, they're _gang kids._ And we're depending on them to be _smart?"_

Taylor didn't look thrilled at all, but she nodded. "As much as I hate to say you're right …"

"Not me. Michael." Amy glanced around, trying to spot anyone who might be looking at them with particular malice. "Though I agree with him. It's not a great assumption to base our safety on."

When Taylor spoke next, there was an edge to her voice that hadn't been there before. "So we improve our chances. We might be alone in a school that doesn't care about our well-being – okay, _my_ well-being – with a bunch of gang kids who might well be incited to move against us at any time, but there's nothing to say that we can't take precautions."

_**Okay, there's the Skitter that we know and love.**_

_Why did I just get a bad feeling about this?_ Out loud, she asked, "Uh, precautions?"

_**Because you're a thinking, intelligent human being. I'm reminded of the quote from Watchmen.**_

Taylor's grin was now showing a few more teeth than normal. "Just keep your head down and follow my lead, okay?"

"Uh, okay." Amy was starting to wonder what she'd gotten herself into. _Is she going to do something supervillainish? And who are the Watchmen? Are they a cape group I've never heard of?_

_**Most likely. And Watchmen is a graphic novel that got made into a movie. They probably made it in Earth Aleph. There's a psychotic vigilante in there who says something like this: "I'm not locked in here with you. You're locked in here with me."**_

_Oh, yeah. Getting a really bad feeling about this._

He responded with a chuckle. _**Knew you were a smart cookie.**_

_But what can she do without outing herself?_

_**Trust me. With Taylor, there are ways and there are means.**_

Somehow, this failed to reassure her.

* * *

Amy watched as the art teacher turned the sadly battered model of the Rig over in her hands. Miss Simone, as she preferred to be called, was a peroxide blonde, almost as skinny as Taylor, with hair that flared out from her head in all directions. Her fingers were long, with tiny cartoon decals on the nail extensions.

"But what _happened_ to it?" the teacher asked, almost plaintively. "The last I saw of it, Taylor, you were doing _wonderfully."_

"My backpack got, uh, mishandled," Taylor told her woodenly. Amy winced, knowing what 'mishandled' really meant. "I'm sorry."

One garish fingernail tapped a purple stain. "This isn't mishandling, Taylor," Miss Simone said sternly. "What _is_ this? Fruit juice?"

If anything, Taylor became even more wooden. Amy got the impression that the taller girl had been through this many times before. "Uh, yes. It got poured into my backpack."

Amy had had enough. "Miss Simone, Taylor's not telling you the whole story. There's three girls who are bullying her. They trapped her in her toilet stall and poured juice and soda over her."

"Oh." Miss Simone switched her attention to Amy. "That's very serious. Did you see this happen?"

"No." Amy set her jaw. "But she told me about it."

"Well, thank you, Panacea, for bringing this to my attention." Miss Simone turned brightly back to Taylor. "Did this really happen?"

"Uh …" Taylor glanced at Amy, who nodded encouragingly. "Uh, yeah. It happened."

"Well, if you can tell me their names, I'll take that to the principal," Miss Simone declared.

"She already knows," Taylor mumbled. "I just wanted to let you know why I wouldn't be handing it in on time."

"Oh." To Amy, Miss Simone seemed oddly deflated. "Who are these girls? Are they in this class?"

"No, they're not." Taylor spoke quietly but deliberately. "Their names are Madison Clements, Emma Barnes and Sophia Hess."

Amy watched the teacher's face as the names came up. Madison didn't elicit much of a response. Emma got a widening of the eyes, but it was Sophia's name that got the most telling reaction. Upon hearing it, Miss Simone's face simply … went blank. _She knows that name, all right. And she's been told that Sophia's something special._

_**Are we surprised?**_

_Not really._

"I see," Miss Simone said, and that was it. "Well, Taylor, I'll give you until Tuesday to fix your project, but I'm afraid I'll have to take ten percent off your mark for tardiness."

"But that's not -" began Amy.

"Thank you, Miss Simone," Taylor said, deliberately talking over her. "Come on, Amy. Let's sit down."

Amy wanted to keep talking, to make the teacher see that it was unfair to penalise Taylor for what the bullies did to her, but this wasn't her school and it wasn't her fight. So she followed the taller girl to a pair of adjoining desks near the back of the room, where they took their seats.

"But that's not _fair!"_ hissed Amy, keeping her voice down. _"They_ ruined your art project, not you!" She couldn't understand why Taylor was taking the down-marking so calmly.

Taylor grimaced. "Uh, the juice was them," she said, just as quietly. "But the actual _damage_ happened when I kind of lost my temper and threw my backpack across the room afterward."

Amy blinked. "Wow. Sorry. I thought it was them for sure."

"No." Taylor shook her head, a wry grin on her face. "That bit was actually my fault. I should have chucked something less personal."

Amy was fully aware of the consequences of losing her temper while using her powers, and Taylor's could barely be any less dangerous. So she understood the slightly sheepish look that the taller girl gave her. _The girls caused that outburst, but just like I've got to keep a grip on my temper, so does she. The consequences are too great to do anything else. But it looks like she knows that already._

_**Yup.**_

_Wait, did you know about that?_

_**Sure.**_ His 'voice' was matter-of-fact. _**Why?**_

She channelled some of the aggravation she was feeling into her reply. _Why didn't you give me a heads-up? I just looked like an idiot in front of Taylor._

_**But now, instead of me spoon-feeding you everything, you're finding out from her. Getting her to open up is a good thing.**_

She wanted to be angry at him for blindsiding her. The fact of the matter was that he was correct, as much as it aggravated her. _This is you making sure that I connect with her on a personal level, isn't it?_

_**Mayybe. **_She'd heard _that_ innocent tone a hundred times from Victoria.

_You suck._

_**Undoubtedly. But I do appreciate the way you're willing to stand up for Taylor. Pretty sure she does, too.**_

_Well, now that I see the place, and the people, I can understand how hard it's been for her not to retaliate._

_**Not quite the hardened criminal, yeah?**_

Her aggravation had eased off, but she felt justified in a mildly sarcastic response. _I'd already figured _that _out._ There was no reply, so she turned her attention to the outside world.

Taylor was looking over the model, her expression rueful. Amy leaned over toward her. "Is it fixable?" she asked quietly.

"I guess," Taylor conceded. "But I'm going to have to take it apart. Which means tearing it. I had toothpicks giving it internal strength, and I'm pretty sure that they're mostly broken." She rubbed uselessly at a juice stain. "And this stuff will _never_ come out."

"So we fix it," Amy declared. "We've got till Tuesday, after all."

Taylor's startled look made her grin.

"What, you'd _do_ that?" Implicit was the question _don't you have better things to do?_

Amy held out her hand. "Give."

Her face a study in curiosity, Taylor placed the model in her hand. Amy turned it over, examining the juice stains.

_**Are you going to do what I think you're going to do?**_

_Probably. Now shush._ Amy licked her thumb, then waited for a moment before rubbing it over the purple mark. At first nothing happened, then the mark faded, becoming almost indistinguishable from the off-white of the heavy cardboard from which the model had been constructed.

_**Niiiice.**_

Amy allowed herself a tiny internal smile. Unable to resist a slight flourish, she handed the model back to Taylor. "I can do the same for the glue, if you want. That'll let you take it apart and glue it back together properly."

Her satisfaction grew as Taylor examined the place where the stain had been. "How did you _do_ that?" asked the bug controller.

"Micro-organisms," Amy explained cheerfully. "We have something like a hundred trillion on or in our bodies at any given time. I gave my thumb a fresh coating and changed them to something that would eat dried fruit juice then die. Glue's organic. We can do the same for that, as well."

"Sure, that's -" Taylor looked around as Miss Simone began the class. "- something we can do later, I guess."

"Okay, sure." Amy turned to face forward, keeping her face impassive in spite of how pleased she was feeling at the moment.

_**That was nice. I approve. Also, kind of awesome. Micro-organisms for the win.**_

His approval sent a warm glow through her. _Thanks._

This was the most she'd used her powers for something other than healing in years, and it was _fun._

* * *

English class at Winslow was about as boring as it was at Arcadia. The teacher, Mr Robbins, was tall and bland, with sandy hair and a neatly trimmed moustache. Amy had tensed up when she saw Madison and Julia in the classroom as well, but they did nothing more than shoot hostile glances toward Taylor and Amy.

As for the subject itself, Amy wasn't too bad at it, but it wasn't exactly her favourite. Taylor, on the other hand, seemed to be in her element. Far from retreating into her shell in the presence of her tormentors, she put up her hand for every question, and seemed to be able to answer every one correctly.

Amy wondered if Taylor wasn't being a little foolhardy, drawing attention to herself like that, until she realised what the other girl was up to. _If the teacher's looking at her, those two can't pick on her._

_**And if they do try to pick on her in class, that gives both of you more ammo at the meeting.**_ Michael seemed pleased with the situation.

_Did you know she was going to do that?_

_**Nope. But it's a smart idea.**_

_Won't they try harder because of this?_

_**Think they would've left her alone?**_

_You've got a point._ But there was still one more thing that Amy was wondering about. Michael no doubt had the answer, but he was encouraging her to talk to Taylor, so she waited until Mr Robbins was writing on the board..

"How do you _know_ all this stuff?" she asked quietly.

"Mom used to teach college-level English," Taylor explained. "She got me into reading at an early age. When they couldn't get a sitter, she'd have me sit up at the back of the classroom with crayons. Sometimes I'd draw, but other times I'd listen. I picked up a lot of stuff, that way."

Amy tried to imagine doing the same with her mother's line of work. Sitting at the back of the courtroom, picking up a working knowledge of the law. Somehow, she suspected, she wouldn't do as well at it as Taylor was doing with English.

Turning back from the board, Mr Robbins held up a dog-eared copy of _To Kill a Mockingbird._ "Everyone has been given a copy of this book for the semester. Who's actually read it so far?" From the tone of his voice, he didn't expect many people to respond.

Nor did Amy; she had tried to get into it once upon a time, but found it supremely dull. Not very much to her surprise, however, Taylor's hand went up almost immediately. Hers was the only one.

"Taylor, uh, Hebert, isn't it?" Robbins asked dubiously.

Taylor nodded. "Yes."

"And you've read it all the way through." His tone indicated that he thought otherwise.

"Yes." Amy saw the animation on Taylor's face. "It's a very interesting story."

"Indeed it is," Robbins agreed. "Can you tell the class what costume Scout wears to the Halloween party?"

_Glad he's asking her and not me. I didn't even know there _was_ a Halloween party in there._

_**Yup. She went dressed as a -**_

"A pork chop, sir," Taylor said promptly.

_**\- pork chop.**_

"Hmm." Mr Robbins rubbed his chin. "Well, that's correct." He turned to stroll back to his desk.

_What, you've read it too?_

_**Several times. It's actually got interesting parallels to the social situation here and now.**_

_Wait, wait, _wait._ Where you come from, you've got _our_ books there too?_

_**Well, yes.**_

"Next Friday," Mr Robbins said, momentarily distracting Amy, "I'll want a fifteen hundred word essay from everyone on _To Kill a Mockingbird_, drawing contrasts between society as depicted in the story and the modern world." The bell began to ring as he finished; chairs scraped on tile as students came to their feet. Raising his voice, he went on. "Taylor, could you stay back a moment, please?"

Taylor turned to Amy. "Go on ahead. I'll catch up."

Amy shook her head. "No. I'm staying right here." _How is that even _possible?_ You're from a different dimension_!

_**Yeah, I am. But I can't tell you any more. A full answer would totally screw up your worldview. At **_**best,**_** you would think I was pulling your leg. At worst … I don't want to think about 'at worst'.**_

She tried to make sense of what he was saying. _So your world is an alternate of ours, like Aleph?_

For a long moment, he hesitated. _**Given a certain definition of 'alternate' … yes.**_

_Are you going to tell me what that certain definition is?_

_**No.**_ That one word had a blunt finality to it, quite unlike his previous openness with information.

Before she could figure out what to say next, the last of the students filed out, leaving her in the classroom with Taylor and Mr Robbins. The teacher approached Taylor while Amy looked on.

"Taylor, up till now, I've been disappointed with your work," he said bluntly. "You hand in hastily-written assignments, or you hand them in late or not at all. Normally, I'd be putting it down to a lack of competence or interest in the subject, but today's performance tells me that's not the case. What's going on?"

Amy watched Taylor gather herself. "Are you sure that you want to know?" Amy could read the subtext. _Because up till now you've been willing to write me off._

The flicker of a glance that Robbins sent toward Amy gave her the rest of the picture. _And he's only talking to you now because I'm here. Lovely._

_**Welcome to Skitter's world.**_

Amy could see what he meant. _I can see this environment producing a villain. Even if she intends to be a hero._

"Yes. I do." Robbins spoke firmly.

_**Wait for it …**_

_Wait for what? She's standing up for herself. This is _great.

_**Just wait.**_ His voice held a certain amount of resignation.

To her credit, Taylor's voice was steady. "Are you aware that Madison Clements has been stealing my assignments and presenting them as her own, or simply destroying them before I could present them, for the last year? Or that Julia Morrow's been assisting her, along with some others?"

His eyes widened. "Really? That's … very out of character for Madison. She's a sweet kid. I have trouble believing that."

Amy cleared her throat. "You could check the handwriting, at the very least."

"I could do that," he said to her, then looked back to Taylor. "Can you name the others?"

Even before she started speaking, the corner of Taylor's mouth took on a bitter twist. "I can. Are you familiar with Emma Barnes or Sophia Hess?"

_**Shutdown in three … two … one …**_

Again, Amy saw the impact of the two names. Mr Robbins' expression changed, becoming almost unreadable. "I … yes, I am. Those are very serious charges. Are you willing to take them to the principal's office?"

"That depends." To Amy's ear, Taylor's voice was almost challenging. "Are you willing to look into it, or just sweep it under the carpet?"

"That's not a good tone to take with me on that," he snapped. "If this has been such a problem, why haven't you reported it by now?"

"I have. Repeatedly." The challenging tone was definitely evident, now. "Twice, to you. The first time, you asked Madison about it. She lied to your face and batted her eyelashes. Julia backed her up. I was the one who got in trouble. The second time, you didn't even bother pretending to believe me. After that, I stopped trying."

He looked more than a little taken aback. "I don't recall any of that. You're making it up."

Amy decided to weigh in. "Says anyone, ever, who's been caught out and doesn't want to admit it."

"Unless you've got _proof_ of your allegations," he snapped, "then they're nothing but libel and slander."

"Why, Mr Robbins, I would've expected more from an English teacher," Amy retorted, trying not to raise her voice. _I need to sound like a hero, not like a shrill teenager._ "Taylor hasn't libelled you at all, and if it's true, it's not slander. Now, are you going to take what she said seriously, or are you going to ignore her, again?"

"Both of you, out of my classroom, now," he said, clenching his fists. "I'll be talking to Principal Blackwell about your behaviour."

_We'll be talking to her about a hell of a lot more than that. _Amy opened her mouth to say exactly that, but Michael got there first.

_**Don't say a word. Let's go.**_

_What? Why?_

_**I'll explain once we're outside.**_

_Okay, but it better be good. _Amy put her hand on Taylor's shoulder. "Come on, let's go."

Taylor nodded curtly. "Okay. Fine." She stalked from the room without another glance for Robbins.

"Panacea." It was the first time that the teacher had addressed Amy by name. "Please, wait. I was a little hasty, there." His tone had moderated, a lot.

_**Wow, I wonder if he realised that he just booted a cape from his classroom.**_

_I don't give a damn._ Amy's fists were clenched, and she realised that she was gritting her teeth. _Who the fuck does he think he is?_

"Please, just a moment. Please?" Robbins' tone was now almost pleading.

_**Maybe you should see what he has to say.**_

_Maybe I don't care._

_**You know and I know that it won't change your mind, but it might be useful to let him think that it will.**_ Michael's voice was calm, reasonable. She hated to admit it, but he had a point.

_Okay, fine. We'll do it your way._

Stopping in the open doorway, she turned toward Robbins. "Yes?"

"I'm sorry for the way I spoke. May I offer my apologies?" If Amy didn't know better, she would have said his tone was actually humble.

"You may." _Not gonna say I'll accept them._

"Thank you." He looked relieved. "May I speak with you for just a moment?"

She looked at him. He was standing by his desk, without offering to go to where she stood.

_Should I talk to him?_

_**Let him say his piece. **_**Then**_** judge the crap out of him.**_

She almost smiled, but managed to keep it in check. _Okay. _Glancing over her shoulder, she looked at where Taylor stood outside the classroom. "I'll just be a second," she said.

"Okay." Taylor moved back toward the doorway.

For her part, Amy headed over to the desk. "Yes?" She tried to strike a tone indicating neutrality.

Robbins glanced at where Taylor stood just inside the doorway, and lowered his voice. "I understand that you're here on her behalf, but … she's a loner. A troublemaker. I've heard things about how she makes up accusations to deflect blame from herself. Like just now."

"Really?" It was a lot of work to keep most of the scepticism she felt out of that one word. Some leaked through, however.

"Really." He didn't seem to have noticed it. "You're a great superhero. I mean, you've got a great future in front of you. If she's just an attention-seeker, this could only cause you problems."

"Thank you." She did her best to keep her disgust off her face and out of her voice. "I'll keep that in mind." _And I'm not about to forget what you said to Taylor, either. Jerk. _Turning her back on him, she walked from the room. Taylor stepped out of the doorway to make way for her.

_**And she sticks the landing, with a nine point five, a nine point five, and a six point five from the East German judge.**_ Michael sounded amused. Amy couldn't quite figure out what he was talking about, but she got the gist.

_Shush, you. He couldn't tell sarcasm if it … if it … _She floundered, looking for a simile.

_**Ran up his leg and bit him on the bum?**_

Taylor stood waiting for her to catch up, looking more than a little pissed. However, this turned to confusion when Amy started giggling uncontrollably.

* * *

It took her a few moments to regain her composure, during which time they began to stroll in the general direction of the cafeteria. Taylor shot her a glance loaded with what Amy had little trouble deciding was amusement. "You okay now?"

"Yeah, I'm good." _You're bad._

_**Well, duh.**_

_Why didn't you let me tell him about the meeting with Blackwell?_

_**The less he knows, the less he can spin things to make himself look better. If someone changes their ways just because they know authority is looking, there's every chance in the world that they'll change back when they know they're not under scrutiny any more. Blindsiding him is much better.**_

_Oh._

_**And **_**much**_** more satisfying.**_

Amy felt herself smiling. _You have a really good point._

"What are you grinning at?" That was Taylor. "Is there a joke I don't know about?"

"Not really," admitted Amy. "Michael was just pointing out why it's a good idea not to tell the teachers about the meeting. Blindsiding them is a lot more fun than letting them have any warning."

"Well, _yeah,"_ agreed Taylor, bumping Amy's shoulder with hers. "Trust me, I know how hard it sucks to have shit happen when I'm not expecting it. It's good to be able to inflict it on others for once."

"He's still probably going to bitch to her about us." Amy felt that it should be said.

Taylor nodded. "True. But because you didn't tell him, he took the chance to say something bad about me behind my back. Which you can now use to point out just how sucky the staff here is. Teachers gossiping about students? _So _wrong on so many levels."

Amy frowned. "I never told you what he said." _We were right across the room. Was she reading lips, or listening in with her bugs?_

_**Probably neither. She doesn't know how to read lips, and bug senses suck to the point that she can't listen to conversations with them yet.**_

_Wait, what do you mean by 'yet'?_

_**Nothing. **_But his tone meant anything but 'nothing'.

"Oh, puh-_leeze."_ Taylor's voice was thick with sarcasm, echoing Amy's own thoughts, for entirely different reasons. "Exactly what _else_ was he gonna say? Let me guess, I'm a loser loner who tells tales about being bullied and tries to get the popular girls in trouble?"

That was eerily close to the mark. Amy looked at Taylor with new respect. "Almost word for word. You just left out the part where you might get me in trouble if I kept defending you."

Taylor chuckled darkly. "Oh, of course. The best way to disarm me is to separate me from all support. Wonder if he'll ever realise that he's basically trying to do what Emma's been doing all this time?"

"Don't know. Don't care." Amy shrugged. "Fuck 'em all. I'm sticking right by your side."

That got her a briefly startled look from Taylor, followed by a shoulder-bump. This time, Amy bumped her right back.

* * *

Amy looked at the lunchtime crowd in the cafeteria. To her trained eye, the divisions were clear to see. The Empire had a certain section of the cafeteria to themselves, as did the ABB. The Merchants were less picky about things, spreading here and there without caring much about where they sat. Then there were the non-gang-related cliques, segregating themselves against outsiders just as clearly as the gangs did.

_**Brockton Bay in miniature,**_ Michael commented.

_You're not far wrong, _Amy agreed. _All we need now is Uber and L33t._

_**Oh, that's easy. Greg Veder.**_

_Who?_

_**If you're lucky, you won't meet him.**_

_Oh. Okay. _She stepped into the cafeteria proper, then noticed that Taylor hadn't followed. "What's the matter?" she asked, turning to look at the other girl.

"I don't eat here," Taylor said. "It's too easy for someone to 'accidentally' spill their drink or something over me. Or over my backpack."

"Jesus, they don't even let up on you in here?" Taylor grimaced; immediately, Amy regretted the hasty statement. "Okay, yeah, that was kinda naïve of me. I'm still coming to grips with how far out of their way these bitches are willing to go in order to bully you."

"So how do they handle shit like that in Arcadia?" Taylor's voice was distant. Amy wondered if she was using her bugs to scout for trouble. Then she wondered how _many_ bugs she was using to scout for trouble.

Amy shrugged. "Oh, uh, if there's trouble between students, the principal checks the security camera footage before talking to them separately. Clear-cut cases of bullying end up in detention. If it keeps up, suspension and expulsion are brought on to the table."

Taylor focused on her, now apparently interested. "And if it's not clear-cut?"

"If it can't be determined who's at fault, teachers are told to keep an eye on them in class. With the heightened scrutiny, if either one tries to cause problems again, they come down on them hard."

"Wow, I _wish_ it worked like that here," sighed Taylor. "That's what they said they'd do, after … well, you know."

She didn't elaborate, but Amy figured it out easily enough. _The locker?_

_**The locker.**_

"And of course, they didn't." Amy shook her head, not knowing what to say. "Christ, if something like that happened in Arcadia, everyone involved – you know, except the victim – would be either in detention, suspended, or expelled. Probably the latter, unless all they did was stand and watch."

"Arcadia sounds nice." Taylor's voice was wistful.

Amy grinned. "Well, you know, they _do_ have rules. Like no cell-phone use in class."

"Wouldn't matter to me. Don't use one." Amy saw Taylor's mouth tighten.

_Oh, right. Yeah._ _Great going, dumbass. _"But _any_way," Amy forged on, "I didn't bring lunch, so I'm gonna have to buy some. And I'm gonna sit right here in the cafeteria and eat it. And you're gonna sit with me. Okay?"

For a moment, Taylor seemed to be about to object; Amy wondered if she'd pushed the other girl too hard. _Has she really been abused so much, that she doesn't dare eat in public?_

_**Well, basically, yeah. She's used to finding hiding places to eat, then rotating them when the girls find her and pick on her while she's eating. Like last week, she was eating in the bathrooms and they held the stall shut and poured juice and soda over her head and into her bag.**_

_Was that when her art project got damaged?_

_**That's the one.**_

_Holy shit._ "Hey," she said out loud. "Okay, look, we don't have to. We can get our lunch and eat elsewhere if you want." _Where's a good place?_

_**I used to eat mine on the front steps.**_

_Okay, that sounds as good as any._

"No," Taylor stated almost angrily. "No. Like you said, fuck 'em. If _you're_ gonna eat in the cafeteria, _I'm_ gonna eat in the cafeteria." Something like a grin passed over her face. "Besides, _someone's_ got to look after you."

Amy raised her eyebrows. "And here I thought _I_ was supposed to be looking after _you."_

"Against the bullies, sure." Taylor's explanation was almost casual. "But only a Winslow student knows where not to sit in the cafeteria."

That, Amy decided, was a very good point.

* * *

"So, how's the mystery meat?" Taylor seemed to be somewhat amused. Justifiably so; she had pulled a bag lunch from her backpack and was eating a pita wrap.

_Next time I come to Winslow, I pack my own lunch._ Amy was very definite about that.

_**Well, yes. **_Michael seemed to be sharing Taylor's amusement.

Amy prodded the meat-like substance doubtfully with her plastic fork. "I'm not sure if whatever this came from even existed in nature." Touching it with her forefinger didn't give her any more of a clue; fortunately for the health of the Winslow student body, it didn't hold much in the way of live organisms. She doubted that there was much in the way of nutrition, either. "Well, I guess it won't kill me …"

"That's the spirit." Taylor took another bite of her wrap, then paused after swallowing. "Don't look around, but we've got a bunch of Empire guys glaring at us. Your ten o'clock."

Amy rolled her eyes but kept her voice down. "How do you expect me to _not_ look around once you've said something like that?"

"I thought you should know – shit, I said _don't look around!"_

_Fuck it._ Amy turned her head to see the table full of shaven heads, all the people on it looking her way with more than a little hostility. She picked out the oldest one by eye and locked gazes with him for just a moment. Then she turned back to Taylor. _Let's see what happens._

The taller girl was staring at her as though she'd grown a second head. "What the fuck? You _don't_ do that! That was a flat-out _challenge!"_

_**Uh, she's kind of correct. What **_**was**_** that about?**_

_First: they might be Empire but I'm a cape. Second: I'm tired of people telling me what I can't do. Third: we both know that if they start anything on me, Kaiser will have their balls by the end of the day._

There was a new tone of respect in his mental 'voice' when he replied. _**Oh. Right. Yeah. Okay, I hope you're reading this one right.**_

_Believe me, so do I._

"It was deliberate," she murmured to Taylor. "What are they doing now?"

"Uh, one of them's getting up and coming over." Taylor didn't look at all comfortable with the situation; Amy didn't blame her. "I think we should just go."

"No." She put her hand on Taylor's arm. For a moment, she was tempted to dial back the amount of adrenaline in Taylor's bloodstream, but she restrained herself. _That sort of thing needs to be consent only._ Michael didn't comment, but she felt the warmth of his approval. "I got this."

Timing her move with the widening of Taylor's eyes, Amy turned as the boy she'd locked eyes with approached. Unhurriedly, she stood, bringing her eye level closer to his. He was still taller than her, but not by a lot. "Can I help you?" Her tone was polite, but disinterested rather than dismissive.

"You're Panacea." He spoke loudly, uncaring of whoever heard.

_**He's putting on a show.**_

_I know. Shh. _"Yes." While his stance was aggressive and bullish, hers was relaxed, arms at her sides. "I'm aware of this. What about it?"

"What's a superhero like you doing in a shithole like this? Getting dirt on us?"

She shook her head. "Nope." _Not that it would be hard, but …_ "I'm not here for that. Right now, I'm just doing a favour for a friend."_ The 'friend' being Taylor, but they don't need to know that._

… _**I think he was put up to this. The way he came up to you, he knows Glory Girl isn't gonna interfere.**_

_I think you're right._

"For a friend, huh?" He gestured toward Taylor, adding a sneer for good measure. "She a hero, too?" _Keep it together, Taylor …_

Amy moved forward, into his space, but she didn't raise her voice. "No. She isn't a hero. She's just someone I'm looking out for. I'm not here for you. I'm not here for the ABB. I'm not even here for the Merchants. So long as you leave me and her alone, I'll leave you and yours alone." She leaned forward so that only he would hear, and hoped that he didn't catch the quaver in her voice. "And Kaiser doesn't have to hear that you've annoyed me." _This has gotta be the second stupidest thing I've ever done. _She offered a sugary sweet smile that she didn't mean. "Understood?"

_**Stupidest being the fire extinguisher?**_

_Yeah._ She could feel her heart pounding as she waited for the skinhead to react. Her fingertips were twitching, other muscles tensing oddly, out of her control. _Is that you?_

_**Yeah.**_ His 'voice' was tense. _**If he swings a punch at you, I'll get skin contact and you can do the rest.**_

It wasn't a solution she liked but it was _a_ solution. However, she liked hers better. _Unless he's a total idiot, he's gonna cave. Kaiser doesn't stand for this shit and he knows it._

_**Good point.**_

The Empire guy's eyes opened wide for just a second; Amy figured she knew exactly what was going through his head. Then he re-established his habitual glower. "You just stay out of our way, then," he grunted, and turned to stomp back toward his table.

Amy watched him go, then let herself slide back into her seat. The tension started bleeding out of her muscles. Despite her still-pounding heart, she forced a smile on to her face for Taylor. "See? Told you I had this."

"And what if you hadn't?" Taylor didn't seem thrilled about it. "Those guys are _dangerous._ They carry knives. I'm pretty sure the top guys, like the one who just came over, have _guns."_

_**Which your power can't really protect against. Like, at all.**_

"They weren't going to make a move against me," Amy insisted. "If they'd done anything more than talk and Kaiser heard about it, he'd have their guts for bungee cords and they knew it. They just wanted to know what I was here for." She paused, thinking about it. "And correct me if I'm wrong, but I got the distinct impression that the only reason that guy even came over is because he thought I was here to hit the Empire. Which is totally fucking ridiculous. I am _not_ a front-line cape." She flicked a glance at the table with the skinheads. They were laughing and joking among themselves again. _So far, so good._

"Unless he heard someone spreading the word that that's what's going on," Taylor said slowly. "And I can think of three suspects, right now."

Amy's eyes widened. It didn't just sound possible; it sounded _plausible._ Except that … "They'd have to know they'd be putting me in danger, and you with me, by spreading that story." She rubbed her fingertips over her forehead. "Would they really go that far?"

"More like, they'd expect you to just leave once you were confronted," Taylor pointed out. "But hey, they've been getting away with shit like you wouldn't believe for more than a year. What's one more drop in the bucket?"

Amy grimaced. "Well, all I can say is, I can't wait for the meeting to start."

"Me neither," Taylor agreed. Amy appreciated the sympathetic look the taller girl gave her. "And I want to say thanks again for putting up with this shit for me. It means more than I can say."

This time, Amy's smile was genuine. "That's okay. I'm guessing that you had something in store for if that guy had actually attacked me?"

Taylor nodded seriously. "About three dozen wasps and hornets. He wouldn't have known what hit him."

"Aww, that's so sweet." Amy chuckled quietly. "I've never had anyone threaten to sic bugs on someone for me." _It would've outed her for sure, but she still would've done it to save me._

_**Yeah, total villain material, hey?**_

_Shush, you._

Taylor grinned back at her. "Hey, I'm a sucker for a damsel in distress."

Amy found the imagery intensely amusing, and broke down into giggles. A moment later, Taylor joined her. The release of tension was good, and they both started eating again. However, Amy couldn't help worrying all the same.

_I wish Vicky was here. They wouldn't even think of bothering us then._

_**Hm. I dunno. Might be a good thing that Collateral Damage Barbie's no longer on site.**_

_Yeah – wait, _what_ did you call her?_

His mental voice held a grin. _**You heard me. Tell me I'm wrong.**_

She barely avoided shaking her head. _Oh, god. How did you even come up with that one?_

_**Oh, it's a nickname that some of us use for her where I come from.**_

_Wait, what?_ Amy stared at nothing, shaken to her core._ There's _more_ of you?_

_**Um, yeah.**_ He paused, almost evasively._** There's dozens, I guess. Hundreds. Billions, if you count the ones who don't do what I do.**_

_I don't even …_ She paused, trying to comprehend the situation. _And they can all just poke their noses into our world and pop up in our heads?_

For a long moment, he didn't answer. _**It's really hard to explain. The best answer for your question is 'yes, but no'. Remember what I said about how telling you too much would screw with your worldview? This is part of what I can't tell you about.**_

Had his 'voice' been light-hearted and joking, as it sometimes was, she might have pushed the issue. However, this time, his tone was serious enough to make her think twice.

_Okay, I guess I can respect that. But really? A bunch of people who know about Vicky and me, and who else?_

_**Well, basically everyone on Earth Bet worth paying attention to, I guess. The information isn't comprehensive or all-encompassing, but I did pick up some more during my last time here.**_

_Sometime you're going to have to tell me what you mean by that._

_**Someday I might. Just not today.**_

Amy pursed her lips. _Okay, that's fair. So their nickname for Vicky is what again? Collateral Damage Barbie?_

_**It's one of the more flattering ones, yeah.**_

_And me? Do they have nicknames for me?_ She braced herself for whatever he might say.

_**Nothing too bad, actually. 'Pan-Pan' is the most common one. Though there's a lot of back-and-forth about why you don't just, well, go all out. Some people think you're a bitch, some think you're basically sandbagging, and some think you could own the world in a week if you really tried. But those are kind of the radicals.**_

_And you? What do you think? _She didn't want to ask the question, but she couldn't _not_ ask it, either. Nor did she want to think about the potential repercussions of her using her powers unchecked.

His reply came without hesitation. _**I think you're a nice kid who never had a chance for a normal life. You found your dad at five, lost him at six, got ignored till you triggered with powers, and you've been shat on from a great height ever since. It's not uncommon for powers to not actually fix problems, but yours actually managed to**_ **magnify**_** the shit you were going through. While pretending to do the exact opposite.**_

For just a moment, she was stunned by his insight. She had never put it into words precisely like that before, but it was exactly how she felt, deep down. She did, however, feel the need to say something in her sister's defence.

_It hasn't been totally terrible. Vicky's always been there for me._

_**True. And when she got her powers, she got her aura. And there went a large chunk of your free will. The worst part is, she still doesn't know she was doing it.**_

_But if I tell her, she'll be totally horrified._

_**And if you don't, she'll just keep doing it. Oh; one other thing.**_

That sounded ominous. _What?_

_**She's terrified of being mentally controlled. I suspect that's why she got the aura when she triggered.**_

_Oh. Oh, god._ Amy could see all sorts of problems coming out of that.

_**Yeah. So if and when you talk to her about the aura, it might be an idea to be really careful about it.**_

"Earth Bet to Amy. Come in, Amy."

Amy started as Taylor interrupted her reverie. "Sorry, what?"

Taylor grinned across at her. Amy could see the glint of mischief in her eyes. "You've been really quiet, and I'm pretty sure it's not because you're loving the cafeteria food. What are you thinking?"

Amy paused to gather her thoughts. "Oh, uh, just talking, actually. To Security. Michael."

"Oh, right. The voice in your head. Still not sure what to think about that." Amy couldn't quite figure out Taylor's expression. "Did you ever find out where he came from?"

Amy hesitated, recalling Michael's words on the subject. "It's … kind of complicated."

Taylor's grin was infectious. "I'd be astonished if it wasn't. Anyway, you want to walk and talk before classes start again?"

Amy nodded. "I think I'd like that." _And let us never speak of the mystery meat again._

_**I still say it was an alien life form.**_

_But it showed no signs of life that I could detect._

By now, she knew he was joking. _**What part of 'alien' did we not understand?**_

* * *

**Bakuda**

* * *

There were three of them in the jeep. Oni Lee sat on one of the rear seats, silent and unmoving. Some guy, whose sole reason for being there was that he had a driver's license, sat behind the wheel. Bakuda herself leaned back in the passenger seat, hard at work.

Carefully, she eased the bomb she'd been working on into the forty-millimetre grenade-launcher casing, then screwed it into place. Squinting with her left eye caused the goggles she was wearing to zoom in, allowing her to connect up the detonation mechanism just right.

"_This is Number Seventy-Three, on the corner of West and Fairfield." _The voice that came over the radio was high-pitched; either a young teenage boy or a woman. She didn't know or care who it was; all she gave a damn about was whether they did what they were told once she'd implanted their cortex bombs. _Screw recruitment; I'll go with conscription any day._

Holding the grenade in one hand, she scooped up the radio mic from the dash in the other. "Bakuda. What've you got, Seventy-Three?"

"_I can see her. The dog girl. Bitch. She's walking north along Fairfield with three dogs. She's not looking at me."_

"If she knew you were reporting to me, her dogs would be all over you." Bakuda knew that her voice modulator wouldn't allow a scornful tone, but she tried for one anyway. "Bakuda to everyone in that area. Converge, but don't get too close. We don't want to tip her off." Clipping the mic back to its holder on the dash, she slapped the driver on the shoulder. "Get us moving, for fuck's sake."

"Y-yes, Bakuda!" he blurted, twisting the ignition key. The engine roared to life, the driver grinding gears in his haste to get moving. A moment later, they were off, homing in on Rachel Lindt, otherwise known as 'Bitch', of the Undersiders.

* * *

**Three Hours Ago**

* * *

"The plan is simple," Bakuda told her conscripts, enjoying the way they eyed her nervously. "You all spread out around the area where they've been seen the most. When one of you spots them, you call in the alert and follow them. The rest of us converge on that area. At best, you keep tabs on them. At worst, you engage them until I get there with Oni Lee. We'll end the fight. Any questions?"

There were none. It seemed that her 'no fucking moronic questions' policy was finally showing its worth. It had only taken two guys melted, one turned to glass, and a fourth blown into pink mist before the others decided that they could keep their questions to themselves. _About fucking time._

* * *

**Now**

* * *

A male voice came over the radio. _"This is Fifty-One. I've got a view of her. She's turning west on to Colson."_

Bakuda finished screwing the grenade together and handed it back over her shoulder. Oni Lee took it and carefully slotted it into the box that held the rest of them. The Tinker took the mic from the dash once more. "Follow her, don't lose her, but for fuck's sake don't alert her. Keep an eye on those damn dogs. If they start growing, assume she's seen you."

There was a map stashed in the centre console; pulling it out, she unfolded it part way, then looked up to check on the street sign. Stabbing a finger at the map, she shouted, "Down this way, then right on to Hawthorne!" Behind her gas mask, her grin was downright predatory. _After I get Bitch, I get the Undersiders. Make an example of them, then bust Lung out. By the time I'm finished, _nobody_ is gonna be messing with the ABB._

The jeep took the corner on to Hawthorne at a moderately unsafe speed; she grabbed for a handhold. Suspiciously, she glanced at the driver for any sign of amusement at her expense, but he was completely focused on the road. _He knows I want to get there fast. Okay, fine, he gets to live for now._

"Lee!" she shouted over the roar of the engine. Turning her head, she saw the painted mask angle in her direction. He didn't answer, but the creepy bastard rarely spoke. "Just remember, we're capturing her, not killing her!"

Bakuda was not great at reading body language, so it was probably just her imagination that made her see disappointment in his posture. Still, it was important that he followed the plan, so she forged on. "We're capturing her alive so we can find out where the Undersiders have stashed the money from the bank job. That way, we can set up an ambush for them. Once we've got them all, _then_ we can kill them. Got it?" She'd explained it all before, seven times, but the guy did tend to be a little forgetful when it came to orders about not killing people. Or maybe he just liked stabbing and blowing up people a little too much. Which she could totally understand.

After a long moment, Oni Lee nodded. Bakuda settled back in her seat, satisfied. _I'll give him a couple of them to play cat and mouse with after all this is over. That Tattle-bitch can go to the farm. The rest I'll try out some new bombs on. I'm interested in seeing if that Vista bomb really does what I think it will, and how long someone can live after it goes off._

Picking up the mic again, she clicked the button. "Fifty-One, do you still have her in sight?"

The answer was a lazy drawl. _"Sure, I've got her in sight. Fat and happy and stupid, still walking down Colson."_

Bakuda frowned in mixed anger and confusion. _I trained my people better than this._ The way Fifty-One was talking bordered on insolence. _Either that, or a death wish._ They all knew she didn't just punish insolence; she made sure it never happened again. She grinned under the gas mask. Making an example of her minions was the _fun_ part of the job. But they still had an Undersider to catch. "Seventy-Three, can you still see Bitch?"

"_Yes, I can see Bitch."_ Seventy-Three's voice was calm and collected. _"Still on Colson. Near Kingswood."_

"Good. Stay on her. We're just coming up to … French. We'll use that to cut her off."

"_Will do."_

"_Bakuda, this is Sixteen. I'm on Colson, near Kingswood. I can't see anyone at all."_

Gritting her teeth, she brought the mic up to her mouth again. "Sixteen, rendezvous with Fifty-One or Seventy-Three. They'll be able to point her out."

"_Uh … this is Twenty-Five. I'm, uh, on Colson, too. I think I can see Sixteen, but I can't see anyone with dogs."_

"_Wow, are you guys blind? Fifty-One, here. Bitch is right there. Three dogs. Are you sure you can't see her?"_

Before Bakuda could muster another reply, the jeep hurtled around another corner. This time, she was braced for it. However, up ahead, there was someone who _shouldn't_ have been there. A stocky auburn-haired girl, wearing camo pants, heavy boots, a flannel shirt tied around her waist, and a man's sleeveless undershirt. Bakuda knew exactly who she was. The dog girl, Bitch. Mounted on one enormously enlarged lizard-rhino-dog, with two others flanking her, running directly toward the oncoming jeep. Grue was mounted on one of the other dogs, trailing a cloud of blackness. On the third, Tattletale and Regent rode double. The former raised a radio to her mouth. _"Seventy-Three here. Surprise."_

Bakuda's mind, too stunned to properly encompass the situation, threw out fragments of thought.

_What the fuck_

_She shouldn't be here_

_They lied_

Then realisation sank in. It was a trap.

The driver immediately hit the brakes. Bakuda was already holding on, so she didn't face-plant the windshield. As the jeep rocked to a halt, she unsnapped her seat belt and pulled herself to a standing position, snatching up the grenade launcher. Bitch was about twenty yards away and closing fast. Bakuda raised the launcher to her shoulder and sighted in on the chest of the lead dog. _Fuck it. All at once works for me._

As she was about to squeeze the trigger, the boy in the Ren Faire costume gestured. Her arm convulsed of its own accord, jerking the launcher around until it pointed straight down between her feet. _Then_ it fired.

_Fucking Masters._

Her last coherent thought was that she hadn't thought to put a minimum arming distance on her pain bombs.

* * *

**Tattletale**

* * *

Random queries continued to spill out of the radio that Lisa still carried; Alec had since discarded his. They cautiously circled around the jeep, looking outward for signs of danger. There were only two people in the vehicle.

Lisa looked more closely. Bakuda and the driver were both twisted into almost impossible poses, with only minor twitching showing signs of life. She'd seen the blast go off, with all three caught in it. Oni Lee was now gone, leaving a pile of ash behind.

"Will he be back?" That was Grue. "And what _was_ that?"

Lisa let her powers expand and take in the scene. "Pain bomb," she reported. "Causes intense agony throughout the central nervous system. He teleported away after the blast hit, but I doubt he'll be much good for anything else for a while."

"Right." Grue looked at Bakuda and the driver. Lisa could see that the latter's teeth were clenched in a rictus of suffering. "Well, shit. We've captured a supervillain. What do we do now?"

* * *

End of Part Seventeen


	18. Chapter 18

**I, Panacea**

* * *

Part Eighteen: Whatever Happened to Alexandria?

* * *

**Friday Morning  
April 15, 2011**

* * *

"What do you mean, Bakuda's been seen?" Brian stuck his head out of the kitchen nook. "Alexandria herself said she was going to take care of that shit!" He searched Alec's face for signs of amusement, and found none.

"Hey, don't shoot the messenger," the younger boy said, sounding defensive. "I was just trolling – uh, browsing, the PHO boards and I saw a mention of her. Thought you should know."

"Alec, what the _fuck_ have I told you about using my laptop without permission?" demanded Lisa, storming along the passageway from her room. "If you've messed up my settings …"

"Hey, chill, chill." Regent hastily put the laptop on the couch beside him. "You left it open, so I thought I'd check the boards."

"Using _my_ damn username," snapped Lisa. "I swear, if you've gotten me banned, you're never going to sleep again."

Alec rolled his eyes. "Oh, do tell."

Lisa stomped over to the couch and snatched up the laptop. "Cut your shit. And what about Bakuda?"

Alec put on an annoying whining tone that made Brian want to punch him. It was probably deliberate, too. "Briiian, she's making promises she's not keeping. Make her stop."

Brian had had enough. He stepped out of the kitchen and advanced on Alec. "I'll make _you_ stop. What was that about Bakuda?"

If he hadn't heard Alec's aggravated sigh a dozen times before, he would have sworn it was genuine. "Okay, fine. Bagrat says she's been seen out and about. He might be pretentious as fuck, but that guy generally knows what he's talking about."

Lisa scanned the screen. Brian watched the lines between her eyes deepen. "Oh shit. This is fucking bad. Legit. Alexandria was supposed to be taking care of her and Oni Lee."

"What's bad?" asked Regent. "That Bakuda took down Alexandria or that she'll be probably coming after us next, like that creepy guy in Panacea's head said?"

"Yes," said Brian flatly. "They're both really, really bad." A thought struck him. "And she was supposed to be going after Oni Lee, too. If she went after Bakuda first …"

Lisa grimaced. "They're both still around. _Great_."

Brian took a deep breath, trying to clear his head. "Uh, right. Okay. What do we do about this?"

"Do about what?" asked Rachel, entering the common area; three dogs followed along behind her. "What the fuck's going on?"

"Alexandria didn't get Bakuda," Brian informed her. "She'll still be coming after us. And if she is, then so's Oni Lee." _How the _fuck_ did she stop Alexandria? Did she kill her?_

"Okay." Rachel went into the kitchen and poured herself a cup of coffee.

"Wait, wait," demanded Alec. "'Okay'? Is that it? Is that all you've got to say?"

"Okay, we take her down ourselves." Rachel's tone was matter of fact. "She's a threat." She took a drink of the coffee. "If something's a threat, you either run away or take it down. I say we take her down."

"How the _fuck_ is that a good plan?" demanded Alec. "A bomb Tinker is after us, so _we_ go after_ her?_ Are you fucking _dense?"_

Rachel took a step toward him, her face darkening with anger. "Don't call me fucking stupid."

"I didn't call you stupid, I called you dense."

The auburn haired girl clenched her fists. "Don't call me dense, either."

"Okay, fine, you're not dense." Alec raised his eyes to the ceiling. "But in what way is that a _good_ plan?" Brian wanted to chime in with agreement, but he didn't want to be agreeing with Alec right then, so he stayed silent.

"Actually, it's doable." Lisa spoke without looking at either of them. "Amy's friend gave us some very valuable intel yesterday. We know that you, Rachel, get captured when you go out for a walk. Bakuda grabs you, forces you to show her where the money is, then sets an ambush for the rest of us. So you go out, we follow along, and when Bakuda goes to capture you, we ambush her."

"Wait, so Rachel gets used as bait in the trap?" Brian didn't like the sound of that. "That's really risky. Rachel, if you're not comfortable with that …"

"Fuck it." Rachel shrugged. "She probably won't ever let up. So we deal with her."

Regent reached forward and turned the game console on. "You're all fucked in the head. If someone's on your ass, the only reasonable course of action is to fuck off and find somewhere else. Ask anyone from Kyushu."

"Not necessarily." By now, Lisa's grin was in what Brian privately referred to as 'run for the hills' mode. _Someone's going to suffer, and hopefully it's not me._ "I'm going to need a map."

* * *

Lisa tapped her finger on the map of Brockton Bay which Brian had located and spread over the table. "Here's the best place for Bakuda to be waiting. It's in ABB territory, and it's on a major intersection. So we draw her to a location of our choosing."

"How do you know she'll be waiting?" Alec sounded bored, leaning on the table with his elbows.

"Because she wants to take us down." Lisa's tone was matter of fact. "This is a big thing for her. We did the Ruby Dreams thing, Lung came after us for that, and he got taken down, in part by us. If she doesn't do this, the ABB's rep is tanked."

Brian decided to get back to the current question. "So how do we do this?"

Lisa looked smug. "We use her own assets against her."

"Hey, I'm good," objected Regent, "but even I can't make someone's ti- ow!" He rubbed the back of his head, where Brian had smacked him. "What was _that_ for?"

"Behave," growled Brian. "Lisa, you were saying?"

Lisa ignored the interruption. "She's gonna have spotters out. Probably with radios. We locate a couple of those …"

**A Little Later**

* * *

Danielle Liu leaned against the wall of the alley and tried not to scratch at the scar at the base of her neck. It was difficult not to, especially when it itched. She didn't remember much about getting the implant, except for the pain and the screaming. Her own screaming, mainly.

_I still can't believe my own brother turned me over to Bakuda,_ she thought bitterly. _Okay, so he had one too, but fuck, he could have _lied_ or something._ The betrayal still hurt, almost as much as the knowledge that she now had a bomb in her fucking _head._ One that Bakuda could set off just by _thinking_ about it. _And it might not even kill me quickly. _She had seen the look on the face of the one guy as he melted in front of her. It had been neither painless nor quick.

_I should be at work right now. _Secretary for a legal firm wasn't _exactly_ the dream job she had yearned for all of her life, but she would have given a lot to be there instead of where she was. Lurking in an alley, clutching a two-way radio, hoping that Bakuda wouldn't simply decide to make an example out of her for some bullshit reason, or no reason at all.

A movement caught her eye; she moved to the entrance of the alleyway. There was someone walking down the street, on the far side of the road. She was stocky, auburn, dressed like a man. That fitted the description of Bitch well enough. But even as she lifted the radio to her mouth, she paused. _She's not leading any dogs. That's not right. Bitch would have dogs with her. It must be someone who looks the same, but isn't her._

Before she could continue the thought, an unnatural blackness rolled over her. Hands grabbed her from behind, and she was yanked back into the alleyway. She yelped, dropping the radio as she tried to fight off her attacker. Unfortunately, any cries for help she might have made were muffled by the blackness, barely reaching her own ears. Whoever it was, they were both taller and stronger than her. She struggled anyway, wishing just for once that the common stereotype about Asians applied; being a martial-arts expert would have been so handy right then. But before she could even complete that thought, an arm went around her throat and began to squeeze …

* * *

As Brian lowered the unconscious young woman to the ground, Lisa picked up the radio. She fiddled with it for a moment, then nodded. "Excellent. The fall didn't damage it."

"So what's the callsign?" asked Brian. "If we're gonna be gaslighting them, we need to know what they're using to identify themselves."

"If there's this many of them, Bakuda won't worry about giving them individual codenames," Lisa countered. She turned the radio around to show him the number 73 scratched into the casing. "This is what they'll be using."

"Wow," Alec commented, failing to sound impressed. "That's _so_ original. I think I might faint."

"So can we do this now?" asked Rachel, stomping into the alley. Brutus, Judas and Angelica trotted forward to greet her, wagging their tails happily.

"Not yet," Lisa said. "We need to grab one more for the best effect."

* * *

**Just a Little Later**

* * *

Joey Chou considered himself smarter than the average gangster. He had found a perch on a rooftop next to a fire escape , giving himself a bird's-eye view of the street below. This way, he'd be far less likely to miss Bitch if she came by. He shuddered to think what Bakuda might do to him if she did pass him by and he missed her. So he dedicated his time to scanning the street, over and over again.

_So long as this fucking thing is in my head, I do what Bakuda wants. I really don't care what happens to some white chick. I'm looking after Joey Chou first, last and always._

Leaning forward, he scanned the street again. There were a few pedestrians, but none that fitted the description of Bitch. However, there _was_ someone walking three dogs on leads. From this angle, he couldn't see her face, but he could see that her blonde hair was done up in some sort of braid. _Could that be a wig?_

For a moment, he considered it, then decided that she simply wasn't stocky enough to be Bitch. Also, her clothes were well-fitting and feminine. From what he understood about Bitch, she either didn't care about that sort of thing or she was a dyke. _Not her, then. _Relaxing, he began to scan the street again.

Footsteps crunched in the gravel behind him. "Excuse me. Building super. You're not allowed to be up here." It was a deep, commanding voice.

_Oh, for _fuck's _sake._ He began to turn, already opening his mouth to explain to this interfering _asshole_ that he was ABB and if the guy didn't want -

The sceptre jabbed him in the middle of the chest, making him convulse from the electrical shock. His muscular control over his own body totally disrupted, he crumpled, his radio beating him to the rooftop by a narrow margin.

* * *

Brian turned the twitching ABB guy on to his stomach and began to secure his hands behind his back. "Seems to me," he observed, "that you like tasing these guys altogether too much."

"What's not to enjoy?" Regent retorted, twirling the sceptre in his hand. "They put on a show, then they fall down."

"If I had to explain it, you'd never understand." Reaching over, Brian picked up the discarded radio. "Here we go. You're … let's see, now." He turned the radio around. "Number Fifty-One."

Regent struck a pose. "I am not a number!" he proclaimed. "I am a free man!"

Brian shook his head as he got up from beside the supine gangster. "Seriously? That show's older than both of us put together. And I do _not_ believe that you've ever watched it."

"Not deliberately, no." Regent grimaced slightly as he took the radio. "But when my father decided to catch the reruns … well, let's just say that _nobody_ asked him if he could change the channel."

There really wasn't anything that Brian could say to that. _I'm sorry your dad's a massive douche who Masters everyone he meets? _It seemed a little inadequate.

"_Now_ can we do this?" demanded Rachel, somewhat to Brian's relief.

Brian grinned. "Yes. Now we can do this."

* * *

**Just a Little Later Again**

* * *

Lisa took a deep breath and pressed the button on the side of the radio. "This is Number Seventy-Three, on the corner of West and Fairfield." As she spoke, she considered the chance that the girl had been someone that Bakuda knew personally. _She put a bomb in her head. Pretty sure that means they weren't close._

There was a pause, then a mechanical voice crackled from the speaker. _"Bakuda. What've you got, Seventy-Three?"_

"I can see her." Lisa grinned at where Rachel was standing by her dogs, then continued. "The dog girl. Bitch. She's walking north along Fairfield with three dogs. She's not looking at me."

They were standing on a rooftop, back from the edge, well away from either West Street or Fairfield Drive. Down below was French Avenue, which was where they needed to be.

"_If she knew you were reporting to me, her dogs would be all over you. Bakuda to everyone in that area. Converge, but don't get too close. We don't want to tip her off."_

Lisa listened as the acknowledgements trickled in, then nodded to the others. "Hook, line and sinker. Alec, give it about a minute, then make your call."

"Sure thing." Alec fiddled with his radio for a moment, then looked over at her. "Think this'll really work?" She didn't have to use her power to know that he was still dubious.

"If there's one thing I've learned over and over in this business," Lisa said cheerfully, "it's that people see and hear what they expect to be there. Give them something plausible to look at, and they'll never question it."

"How do you know she'll drive up this street?" demanded Rachel. "It's not where you told her I was."

"No, it's not," Lisa agreed. "But from where she'll be starting, coming up this way will be the fastest way to cut you off, from what Alec will be telling her." She pointed at Regent. "Okay, showtime."

Alec nodded, and clicked his radio button. "This is Fifty-One. I've got a view of her. She's turning west on to Colson."

"_Follow her, don't lose her, but for fuck's sake don't alert her. Keep an eye on those damn dogs. If they start growing, assume she's seen you."_

Lisa released a pent-up breath that she hadn't realised that she was holding. Despite the bomb Tinker's mechanical monotone, she could still ascertain basic facts. One very important one was that Bakuda was still buying their ruse.

Regent was looking at her. She nodded encouragingly. "She's still fat and happy," she said quietly. "As far as she's concerned, Rachel doesn't have a clue."

"Shit, this would really have worked if we hadn't been warned, wouldn't it?" Grue sounded unhappy. "We had no idea how far they were willing to go to get at us."

Lisa grinned at him. "Yeah, but _we _know where _they_ are and the opposite doesn't apply." She glanced at Regent. "We could lead her in circles all day, or just fade away every time they get close."

Regent shook his head. "Fuck that noise. Let's see this through."

The surprise was evident in Grue's voice. "Really? Not so long ago, you were all about running away."

"That was before I saw how Lisa was jerking her all over the landscape," Alec said. "I wanna see how this turns out."

"Oni Lee's involved," Lisa warned them. "It could still go bad."

Regent shook his head. "I still have no idea why nobody's sniped that bastard from three hundred yards away."

"No kill order, for one thing," Grue pointed out.

"So what?" Regent spread his hands. "Who says it has to be a sanctioned kill? This is _Oni Lee_. He's already _got_ a body count of his own."

"Yeah, but -" began Grue.

"_Fifty-One, do you still have her in sight?"_

Regent lifted his radio and replied in a lazy drawl. "Sure, I've got her in sight. Fat and happy and stupid, still walking down Colson."

Lisa face-palmed. _He repeated what I said! And that's sure to piss her off. _"Jeez, I hope you didn't -"

"_Seventy-Three, can you still see Bitch?"_

Rapidly, she composed herself. "Yes, I can see Bitch. Still on Colson. Near Kingswood."

"_Good. Stay on her. We're just coming up to … French. We'll use that to cut her off."_

Lisa keyed her radio, forcing herself to sound calm and collected. "Will do." Just as she was starting to relax again, another voice sounded on the radio.

"_Bakuda, this is Sixteen. I'm on Colson, near Kingswood. I can't see anyone at all."_

Bakuda spoke next. _"Sixteen, rendezvous with Fifty-One or Seventy-Three. They'll be able to point her out."_

"That doesn't sound good," Grue said, sounding worried.

"No time," Lisa snapped. "Everyone, mount up, now. We've got about sixty seconds to be in place."

As they scrambled on to their selected mounts, the radio crackled to life again. _"Uh … this is Twenty-Five. I'm, uh, on Colson, too. I think I can see Sixteen, but I can't see anyone with dogs."_

Lisa was still climbing on to Angelica when Regent clicked his radio on again. "Wow, are you guys blind? Fifty-One, here. Bitch is right there. Three dogs. Are you sure you can't see her?"

He dropped the radio so that he could hang on. Lisa had already clipped hers to her belt. She shouted, "Go, go, go!"

Rachel whistled loudly, and the dogs surged forward. The next few seconds were a terrifying blur; one by one, the dogs leaped to the roof of a one-storey building, and then to the ground. As jarring as it was, they landed on the pavement without serious incident; at a nod from Lisa, Rachel sent the dogs galloping down the street.

A moment later, a jeep came hurtling around the corner, straightened up from a wild fishtail, and roared toward them. Lisa pulled the radio off her belt; lifting it to her mouth, she said smugly, "Seventy-Three here. Surprise."

The driver of the jeep slammed on the brakes; the rugged vehicle screeched to a halt, greyish smoke pouring off of the tyres. In the passenger seat, a costumed figure stood up, raising something that looked like a really big gun in their direction.

As the dogs pounded closer to their intended prey, Lisa looked down the barrel of what her power told her was a forty-millimetre grenade launcher. Behind her, Regent moved; through her power, she got the impression that he was making some sort of gesture. _He's screwing with her aim_. In response, the barrel of the launcher dipped dramatically, until it was pointed straight down inside the vehicle. There was a gush of smoke as it fired, then a translucent golden globe radiated out from that spot. Right then, Lisa decided to forgive Alec for any transgressions for about, say, the next week.

Rachel whistled another command, and the dogs split to the left and right. Brutus and Judas went left, while Angelica went right. All of the dogs avoided the rapidly-expanding hemisphere; even as they passed by, it got out to about a ten yard diameter, then popped like a soap bubble. At about this point, Oni Lee collapsed into ash.

_He jumped too late and got caught in the effect._ Whatever the effect _was_, Lisa wasn't quite sure. However, she was glad that she'd missed it._ Knowing Bakuda, that wasn't a happy-friendly-hug type of grenade._

Guiding Angelica back around in a circle, she sent the dog trotting toward the stopped jeep. "Keep an eye out!" she shouted. "Oni Lee might still be around!"

While the others scanned the area, she paid closer attention to Bakuda and the guy in the driver's seat. They were alive, but not in a good condition. It wasn't hard to figure out what had happened to them. _Pain, and lots of it._

* * *

**Brian**

* * *

"What do we do now?" He was asking more out of reflex than anything else.

"If we just leave her, she'll keep coming after us." Lisa wasn't answering the question so much as thinking out loud.

"Okay, why don't we -" began Regent.

Lisa spoke over him. "We can't kill her, because unwritten rules."

"She wanted to kill _us,"_ objected Rachel. She was leaning forward on Brutus, her hands flexing slightly. _Wants to give the order anyway. We can't stop her if she does._

"No, she's right," Grue put in. "If we killed her once she was helpless, that opens us up to everyone else coming down on us like a ton of bricks." He paused, then went on reflectively, "And I'm not sure that Taylor would really approve anyway."

"She wouldn't," Lisa agreed immediately. "It would alienate her. She'd think she couldn't trust us. Also, Amy's friend wants Bakuda alive, remember?"

"Well, okay, _fine." _Lisa couldn't see Regent's expression, but she knew he was rolling his eyes. "What _do _we do with her, if we can't kill her? Because I'm not letting her go."

"Way I see it, we've got one option …" began Grue.

Lisa slid down off of Angelica and went over to the still-running jeep. "I agree," she said, checking the driver's pulse. It was rapid but strong. He twitched when she touched his neck. She turned the vehicle off, then moved on.

"Two options," Regent offered.

"What's the other one? And we already agreed not to kill her." Grue's voice was firm.

"No," Lisa stated as she rounded the jeep. "We're not letting you hijack her." A small part of her mind protested. _Having a Tinker at our disposal would be very useful. _She grimaced. _Until the other capes in Brockton Bay realised that we were holding her in slavery. And then we're dead._

Again, Regent put on that deliberately-annoying tone. "I never get to do _anything_ fun."

Lisa ignored him, pulling off Bakuda's left boot and sock. After that, she carefully removed the toe rings she found there. For good measure, she appropriated the woman's goggles as well.

"Unmasking …" Grue reminded her warningly.

"This is what she needs to set her bombs off," Lisa pointed out. "You don't leave Tinker shit in reach of the Tinker." Each of the rings went into a separate pouch in her belt. The goggles she hung around her neck. Then she started zip-tying the woman's wrists together, attaching them to a handhold.

"So what _are_ we gonna do with her?" Rachel sounded impatient.

"That's easy," Lisa said cheerfully, pulling out her phone.

* * *

**One Phone Call Later**

* * *

Colin slowed down when he saw the jeep. It was slewed across one lane, part-way into another. From what he could see, it held two people. _The call said Bakuda and some ABB flunky. _A flick of his eyes brought up the latest image of Bakuda, and he compared it with what he could see. _She's not wearing goggles, but apart from that …_

"Armsmaster to Dragon. I'm on site. The tip seems accurate. One jeep, two occupants. Visual inspection suggests that one of them is Bakuda. They appear to be unconscious." Another flick of his eyes toggled a different visual mode. "Infrared scan indicates that they're alive."

_"Copy that." _The little green dot in the upper-left field of his HUD showed that she was streaming his helmet feed. _"That's what it looks like to me, too."_

Parking the bike, Armsmaster swung his armoured leg over the saddle with the ease of long practice. "Moving closer to investigate and apprehend."

_"Understood. Be careful."_

"I'm always careful." He unracked the halberd from his back and made it extend to its full length in one easy movement. Using the HUD, he set it to stun-shock mode and advanced on the vehicle. Neither occupant reacted to his approach; once he got around to Bakuda's side of the jeep, he paused to examine the situation more closely.

"Bakuda and the driver seem to be either unconscious or faking it very convincingly. Their hands have been zip-tied to the interior of the vehicle. There is a pile of ash in the rear of the jeep, along with what appears to be a great deal of Tinkertech ordnance. Do you concur?"

_"I do. The ash seems to be of the same consistency as that which Oni Lee leaves behind. Did you see the zip-lock bags and the note taped to the dashboard?"_

Colin had not. He swung his gaze to the dashboard; as Dragon had pointed out, there were two small plastic bags, as well as a note, attached to the dashboard with professional grade duct tape. Each bag held a metal ring; one of the rings was somewhat larger than the other. The note was brief and to the point: _Don't let the rings touch. Look in the glove compartment._ It was signed with the letters _Tt._

Removing the bags from the dash, Colin brought them close to his visor, careful to not even bring the plastic into contact. The close-up inspection revealed minute details, resembling circuit boards, inscribed into the metal of the rings. "Dragon, does that look like Tinker work to you?"

_"It certainly does. I would infer that we are looking at Bakuda's detonation trigger, and that it was indeed Tattletale who called it in. Look at Bakuda's left foot."_

"I swear, you're better at using my helmet sensors than I am." But his grumbling was good-natured as he looked down. Sure enough, the bomb Tinker's boot lay next to her foot, a sock draped over the top if it. Around the base of the big toe was a groove; Colin would have bet his halberd that the larger of the two rings would fit neatly into that groove. "So. Rings on toes. She selects the bomb somehow ..."

Dragon must have realised the next step at the same time as he did, because they spoke in unison. _"Using the HUD in the goggles."_

"Exactly," he said. "And then she crosses her toes to set off the one she's chosen."

_"Which means that the goggles must hold the data for where all the bombs she's set are. And possibly the codes to disarm them."_

Colin popped the glove compartment. Inside, along with a roll of the same duct tape and the expected goggles, was another note with just one word on it: _Hi!_

Grabbing his halberd, he spun around, raising the weapon defensively.

"_Colin, what's the matter? What happened?"_

"That note means I'm being watched," he said tensely. "Nobody ever leaves something like that unless they've got you under observation." He scanned the rooftops on both sides of the street.

"_It could be just a ploy to mess with your head," _she suggested. _"My analysis of Tattletale's actions to date suggests that this would not be out of character for her."_

"True," he agreed, but he did not relax. Instead, he activated the polarisation for the visor. "However, there are more effective ways of doing that. I think – ah." His eyes narrowed as he spotted something protruding over the parapet of a building opposite. Sunlight glinting from a window on a taller building made it almost impossible to see with the naked eye, but the polarisation handily defeated that. "And there they are. Correct me if I'm wrong, but that's the top of someone's head."

"_You're not wrong,"_ Dragon admitted. _"Oh, and they just waved."_ The slim arm was clad in purple. _"That's the colour of Tattletale's costume, isn't it?"_

She was right, of course. Activating the grapple-line mode of his halberd, Colin pointed it at the edge of the rooftop. A press of his thumb caused the capacitors to discharge into the high-powered electromagnets, launching the grappling head toward its target. It struck, clamping on to the ageing brickwork. He triggered the rewind function, locking his gauntlets on to the shaft of the halberd as it yanked him upward.

His boots struck the side of the wall first, then the halberd reconnected with its head. Latching more tightly on to the brickwork, it swivelled so that the shaft swung up and over, depositing him on the rooftop with relative ease. He turned to face the villains that awaited him, the halberd releasing its grip on the edge of the roof and re-purposing itself as an offensive weapon.

It was times like this, he decided, that made all the hard work and long hours in the lab truly worth it.

Four parahumans faced him. He recognised them all from their file photos; Grue, Tattletale, Regent and Hellhound. The latter had three enormous lizard-rhino-dog monsters behind her; he'd seen photos of _those, _too. For a moment, he wondered about the absence of their newest member, but then recalled that it was a school day. No large swarms of insects seemed to be in evidence, so he decided that he was safe from that quarter, at least for the moment.

"You gonna fight me?" he called out. A flick of the eyes activated his HUD lie detector.

"Wasn't in the plan," Tattletale replied with an irritating grin. She wore a skin-tight lavender costume with an eye design worked into the chest area, and a domino mask. "We just thought we'd hand over Bakuda and go on our merry way."

_TRUE,_ the detector reported.

"Bakuda's secured," he replied shortly. "And you're still wanted for the bank job, and for being accessories to the murder of a PRT officer. At the very least." He hefted the halberd. "Make this easy on yourselves. Give up now."

"The bank job was at the behest of Coil," she replied. "You know, that PRT official? Yeah, he was a supervillain. So whoever offed him did you a huge favour. Plugged a massive security leak. Also, that Amber Alert that was due to come out today, where the mayor's niece got kidnapped? That was Coil, too. We didn't know we were just a diversion. But once we found out, we fixed our mess. We saved the girl and got her back to her parents."

"And Calvert?" he asked. His detector was reading TRUTH on every statement, but he wanted to shake things up in case she was quoting from a prepared script. _If she sees it as a story, then she might not give appropriate reactions to truth or falsehood._

She gave him a dry look. "_Coil_ wasn't going to give up, and he wasn't going to go away. What happened was for the best. Trust me on this. The PRT would _not_ have looked good if it ever came out." Her grin became even more irritating. "You're welcome. Again."

His detector had not flickered from its _TRUTH_ reading even once. She believed every word implicitly. _Maybe that's her power. To make even herself believe her lies._ "You're Tattletale. The so-called psychic. Why should I believe you?"

"Because you've got a lie detector in your helmet," the lavender-clad villain pointed out quite accurately. _TRUTH._ "From what I've been told, anyway."_ TRUTH._

_Who the hell would have told her?_

"_Armsmaster, how did she know?"_

He didn't bother denying it. "I've reason to believe that it can be spoofed. People have done it, recently." _The bug girl. Skitter._

"No." She stared directly at his visor. "One person. And that person was telling the truth, _then." TRUTH._ "You were the one who changed things." _TRUTH._

_What – I – how …_ He tried to rein in his spinning thoughts. _Did I make her into a villain?_

"_What's she talking about? What did you do?"_

"I'll tell you later," he sub-vocalised, without moving his lips.

Although he thought that he'd been careful, Tattletale grinned again, then waved. "Whoever it is that you're talking to, say hi for me."

Dragon's voice was measured. _"She is __**very**__ perceptive."_

_So I'm learning._

But Tattletale wasn't done. "Oh, and by the way, what he's going to tell you later is that he was a dick to someone we know, who wanted to be a hero, and now that person has gone the villain route."

_TRUTH._

"_Oh, Colin." _Dragon's voice was a sigh. _"What have you done?"_

He drew himself up. "I did what I thought was right at the time."

Tattletale snorted. "Like no cape in the history of the world has _ever_ said that before. Nobody ever sets out to do the _wrong_ thing. That bit just comes naturally, after a whole lot of bad decisions."

_TRUTH._

Gritting his teeth, Colin hefted the halberd, double-checking that it was set to a non-lethal stun mode. He also deactivated the lie detector; it was starting to get on his nerves. "Be that as it may, you're still wanted. I'm taking you all in. Do yourselves a favour and don't resist. It'll go better for you that way."

Each of the teenagers opposite him, bar Tattletale, tensed up at his words. Regent raised his sceptre, while blackness billowed out around Grue. Tattletale held up her hand, still grinning that infuriating grin. "Nope. You're gonna have to put us on the back burner. There's a more important matter that you've got to deal with, and any fight with us would waste precious time."

He gritted his teeth again, reactivating the detector. She was really very annoying. "And why would that be?"

She pointed toward his belt. "Those goggles. Have you checked them out yet?"

He couldn't resist glancing down, to where Bakuda's goggles hung from his belt. He didn't even remember putting them there after opening the glove compartment. "Not yet, but I've deduced that they're how she picks out targets. Is that the important information you were going to tell me?"

Her air of insufferable smugness intensified. "Nope. The information is this. Bakuda was planning to create a massive diversion so that Oni Lee could bust Lung out of the PRT building." _TRUTH._

The grin fell off her face. "She's got bombs planted all over the city, and those goggles can help you find them. If they get set off, we're looking at hundreds of casualties. And we don't know that some of them might not have been set to go off on a timer already. And there's one more thing."

_TRUTH._

As the detector flashed green yet again, he felt a chill run down his back. "What's that?"

"A lot of those bombs are designed to kill one person only. The person they're implanted in." To make her meaning crystal clear, she turned her head and tapped the back of her neck, up under the skull. "Right there. Innocents. Parents. Children. It doesn't matter to her."

_TRUTH._

It was as if she knew every button to press to get his attention. _Fucking Thinkers._ But even if she was spoofing his lie detector, he knew that he couldn't ignore the warning. "Very well. But I will find you again. And if you're lying to me …"

"I'm not. We're done here." She began to turn away, then paused. "Oh, and one more thing."

He was beginning to _hate_ that phrase. "What?"

Atypically, she hesitated. "There's something … you're going to want to keep it on the down-low. Alexandria was supposed to go after Bakuda last night. Bakuda's here today. What do you think that might mean?"

Without waiting for an answer, she turned and headed for the smallest of the three mutated monsters. The others followed, more warily. Colin let them go; his entire attention was on the lie detector readout. The last question hadn't registered, but the statements before it had.

_TRUTH._

* * *

**Thursday Night  
April 14, 2011**

* * *

As long and distinguished criminal careers went, Bakuda's … wasn't. She had gotten away from the debacle at Cornell more by luck than good judgement. Not long afterward, she had been approached and recruited by Lung, who apparently didn't care that she was only half Japanese, or that she'd been born in Ohio, or that her maternal grandparents had emigrated to the United States just after the Second World War.

It was one of the reasons that she wore the mask; while it made her sound creepy and robotic, it also erased all traces of accent from her voice, so that those of Lung's flunkies who took stock in such things wouldn't know that she couldn't even speak Japanese.

She hadn't been at Cornell to learn the language of her mother's parents. Nor had she been intending to start a villainous career. But after she had triggered with powers – and the less said about _that_, the better – she had done the best she could with what she had.

It hadn't been enough to get everything she wanted, but at least she had evaded capture. And learned some very valuable lessons in the process. And so, when Lung offered her a large amount of money to make use of her Tinker talents for the ABB, she had hastened to put some of it toward the most intensive workshop security that she could manage.

Thus, when the HUD in her goggles flared to life with multiple warnings, she immediately knew that she had a real problem.

There was no overt warning; the door hadn't opened, and she hadn't heard footsteps. The pressure-plates in the floor were quiescent, so nobody was sneaking up behind her. But there was someone in the workshop with her, all the same.

To begin with, the IR sensors were certain that a human-shaped object had just appeared in the workshop behind her. In addition, the CO2 filters were reporting an increased workload, and the laser scanners were painting a human shape closing with her position. A _flying_ human shape, one who had apparently just teleported into the most secure Tinker lab in Brockton Bay.

The bomb Tinker turned fast, a half-assembled trap-mine in her hands. Hovering in the air just a few yards away, heavy cape draping over her shoulders in a way that would set the most stylish parahumans to weeping with envy, was every villain's nightmare.

Alexandria.

"Back off, bitch!" snapped Bakuda, knowing that the mask would translate it into a mechanical monotone but not caring. She brandished the uncompleted mine in the flying woman's direction while beginning a retreat of her own. "If I set this off, it'll do something unpredictable. Kill you, kill me, create a miniature black hole … who knows _what_ it'll do? You want to be responsible for something like that?"

Alexandria drifted forward, slowly but inexorably closing the distance. "I think you're bluffing," she said flatly. "You're not showing the appropriate respect for something that volatile."

_Shit._ Bakuda didn't know _how_ she knew that, but it was true. _So much for the goddamn mask wiping all stress out of my voice. _Which was the _other_ purpose she had designed it for. She backed up a little faster, angling to put a bench between her and the hero.

"Now, put it down, carefully," Alexandria went on. Bakuda wished she knew how the hero managed to pack so much menace into just five words. Even _Lung_ required overt threats to put the fear of God into her so thoroughly. "Do not use your fingertips. Do not press any panic buttons. If I see you attempt to press anything, I _will_ come over there, and I _will_ break your arms."

Using the heels of her hands, Bakuda put the mine down on an empty section of her bench and kept backing up. Behind her goggles, she was busy with her HUD. "Why haven't you already done that, then?"

Alexandria's tone was calm and steady. "Because I'm fully aware that I'm facing off a Tinker with a very destructive speciality in her own workshop, and I'm fully aware of the potential for disaster if I happen to cause you to panic. I don't _want_ you to panic. I want you to _listen._ And to keep your hands in full view. Thank you."

Under her mask, Bakuda grinned viciously as she raised her hands once more. _I don't need my hands to set shit off, but you don't know that, do you?_ "Listen?" she repeated. "To what?" She backed up to another bench.

"I want you to work for the Protectorate," Alexandria stated flatly. "You'll get a salary and all the resources you need."

_Okay, now she's just bullshitting me, trying to get me off guard._ Bakuda eyed the benches, their contents, and the relative positions of Alexandria and herself within the room. _Not perfect, but it'll have to do._

"Yeah, sure – like fuck I will!" she spat, turning to dive and roll under the bench behind her.

"Bakuda!" shouted Alexandria, lofting into the air to pass over the benches separating them, just as Bakuda had anticipated. She already had the HUD commands queued up, and her toes crossed within her boot. _I am gonna have to rebuild so much shit._

The first bomb to go off was the black-hole grenade, behind Alexandria and to her left. It immediately started sucking in everything in its vicinity. The bench it had been sitting on went first, crumpling and crushing itself into an absurdly tiny space. Thousands of dollars worth of components and finished bombs followed very shortly, sucked into the point-mass_._ Caught in the powerful pseudo-gravitational surge, Alexandria was momentarily dragged backward, before she poured on the power and began to struggle forward again.

Keeping track of her progress via the workshop sensors – those not being distorted by the baby black hole's intense gravity field – Bakuda was impressed. But not so impressed that she didn't set off the other bomb just as the Triumvirate hero passed over it. This one was the time-freeze grenade. _More shit to rebuild. Oh, well. Better it than me._

As far as Bakuda could tell, Alexandria had no idea what hit her; one moment she had been seconds from laying hands on the bomb Tinker and the next she was engulfed in the time-stop field. _She must have been watching me rather than the stuff on the benches. Her bad luck._ The time-freeze grenade had been rolling across the bench toward the baby black hole when Bakuda set it off, so her timing had been better than even she had hoped. _Timing. Hah. I kill me._

The tiny black hole fizzled and died; this was followed by a thunderous crash, as the ton or so of super-compacted debris fell to the floor. However, Alexandria was left floating above the bench in the globe of stopped time, her cape drawn back behind her dramatically. Although stationary, she was straining forward as if trying to break the sound barrier and save the day. Around her, small objects had also been captured, frozen in motion toward the now-defunct black-hole effect. They weren't going to be going anywhere now, and nor was Alexandria.

"Holy shit." That didn't feel nearly effective enough. "Holy shit!" she yelled. The adrenaline was just now starting to wear off, and she felt a wave of exultation welling up from deep within her. "I took on fucking _Alexandria_ and won!"

Dancing wasn't really her thing, but she tried anyway, executing an extemporaneous victory jig. As a finale, she grabbed a piece of scrap paper, balled it up, and threw it at the frozen hero. It struck a boundary only a few feet away from Bakuda, and hung there. This time, it was Bakuda's turn to freeze, with the realisation that she'd been an arm's length away from being trapped herself causing ice water to trickle through her veins.

"Fuck." She stared at Alexandria. The woman had been powering toward her while the grenade rolled away; half a second either way, and she would have been either trapped in the time bubble or captured by Alexandria. _"Fuck." That was too fucking close._

There was a small fridge in the corner of the workshop, ostensibly there to keep certain components chilled until they were ready for use. However, she also stored beer in it … because, well … _beer._ Heading over to the fridge now, she lifted her mask, popped the cap off a bottle, and chugged it down. The ice cold liquid seemed to rejuvenate her brain, speeding up her thought processes.

_Okay, so what do I do now? I've got a member of the fucking __**Triumvirate**__ stuck in time like a fly in amber. Pretty sure the ratio in there's ten billion to one, so even if she gets out in one-tenth of a second, that's thirty years. So she's out of the picture. But what about the other two?_

The first bottle was unaccountably empty, so she opened a second one and considered her options. _If they were keeping tabs on her, they'd be here right now and I'd be kinda screwed. And if they can find __**her**__, they can find __**me**__. And once that happens, I am definitely screwed, and not in a good way._ Legend and Eidolon, of course, favoured ranged attacks, which would play to their strengths and her weaknesses. _I guess I was kinda lucky that it was Alexandria who came looking for me._

She drained the beer, then hurled the bottle at the time-freeze field. It stuck there, hanging upside-down in midair. Within, Alexandria stared fixedly forward; she obviously hadn't realised her predicament as yet.

_I could close down this workshop and go elsewhere, but that leaves her to be found, along with all that evidence inside the time-freeze field to point toward me. No, it's better if I stay. I'll just have to mark out the field boundary before I do anything else._

Another thought intruded. _What about tomorrow? I still need to fuck up the Undersiders before I start the bombings. _She looked over the workshop, at the damage created by the black-hole bomb and the area presumably enclosed by the time-freeze field. _That's tens of thousands of dollars right there. I don't know if I can afford to hire Uber and L33t right now._ She grinned savagely. _That's fine. I'll do it all myself. I don't need those losers._

* * *

**Earlier on Friday Morning  
April 15, 2011**

* * *

Contessa sighed. _How did she get herself into _that_ situation?_ A minor exertion of her power would have given her the answer, but all she needed to know was that while Alexandria wasn't dead, she was out of the picture until something could be done to save her. _This is going to disrupt matters. Fatally?_ She checked the plan in her head. _No. Just more to do. Seventy-three extra steps to deal with it. I don't need her immediately, and it won't harm her to stay there for a while. This might go as far as to teach her some humility._ The last bit was a private joke; teaching Alexandria humility, she knew, would take far fewer steps than that.

Pulling out her smartphone, she typed up and sent an email without looking, much less paying attention to what the email said or who she was sending it to. That task complete, she put the phone away and boarded the bus. _Step complete._ In the process, she gave the bus driver a wide smile and a generous tip. This would give him a boost to his day, and he would avoid a traffic pileup which would otherwise cause three people on the bus to be late to work.

* * *

**Washington, DC**

* * *

Miranda Lange was proud to be an American. Moreover, she was proud to assist, even if it was from behind the scenes, with the running of the office of the Chief Director of the Parahuman Response Teams. A minor aerokinetic with the ability to mimic any sound she had ever heard, she was also fortunate enough to be a reasonably close match to Alexandria, in body if not face. She kept her blonde hair cropped short, and there was a metal mask and long black wig in her closet at all times.

Originally, she had been brought on board to impersonate Alexandria, but after several years, she had been cleared for the full secret behind the deception. A Tinkertech face-mask allowed her to masquerade as the Chief Director when needed, freeing Alexandria to perform acts of derring-do while Miranda was making public appearances as the Chief Director.

The discovery that the head of the PRT was a parahuman had initially somewhat shocked her. However, after a careful explanation of the situation by a business-suited woman whose name Miranda hadn't quite caught, it all became clear to her. Rebecca Costa-Brown was _the _best choice to run the PRT; she had proven that many times over since it had been formed. And if she was a parahuman, so what? If all that Alexandria needed was a helping hand to keep the secret, then Miranda was absolutely willing to do her part. It wasn't as if anyone was being hurt, and Alexandria was much better at being a hero than she was.

Her laptop chimed, signalling an email. She clicked on it, noting the familiar header; a thrill of anticipation ran through her body. _Do I get to be Alexandria today? Please let me be Alexandria._

As she read through the email, her shoulders slumped ever so slightly. Being Rebecca Costa-Brown was more strenuous, and she had to _talk_ more. Her power let her replicate the Chief Director's voice exactly, but she still hadn't gotten the hang of projecting her personality in the same way. Still, they were depending on her to do the job, so the job would get done.

Picking up her phone, she dialled a specific number, leading with a series of digits not used by any normal phone number. This diverted the call through the Chief Director's office line, making it seem as though the call was coming from there.

The phone on the other end rang just once before being picked up. _"Piggot."_

Miranda took a deep breath, 'tuning' the sound that came out of her mouth to match the Chief Director's voice. "Emily, this is Chief Director Costa-Brown …"

* * *

End of Part Eighteen


End file.
